Dredlinton leaned a little forward. He spoke with a vicious distinctness. "You sympathise with her to such an extent that you lure her to your rooms at midnight and send her back when you've--" Dredlinton's courage oozed out before he had finished his speech. Wingate had swung around towards his companion, and there was something terrifying in his attitude. "You scoundrel!" he exclaimed. Dredlinton drew a little farther back and kept his finger upon the bell. "Look here," he said viciously, "you may as well drop those heroics. I am not talking at random. My wife was seen in your arms, in your rooms at the Milan Court, with her dressing case on the table, last night, by little Flossie Lane, your latest conquest in the musical comedy world. She spent the night at the Milan." "It's a lie!" Wingate declared, with cold fury. "How the devil could Flossie Lane see anything of the sort? She was nowhere near my rooms." "Oh, yes, she was!" Dredlinton assured him. "She just looked in--one look was quite enough. Didn't you hear the door slam?" "My God!" Wingate muttered, with a sudden instinct of recollection. "Perhaps you wonder why she came?" the other continued. "I will tell you. I followed my wife to the Milan--I thought it might be worth while. I saw her enter the lift and come up to your room. While I was hesitating as to what to do, I met Flossie. Devilish clever idea of mine! I determined to kill two birds with one stone. I told her you'd been enquiring for her--that you were alone in your rooms and would like to see her. She went up like a two-year-old. Jove, you ought to have seen her face when she came down!" "You cad!" Wingate exclaimed. "Your wife simply came to beg my intervention with the management to secure her a room in the--" "Chuck it!" Dredlinton interrupted. "You're a man of the world. You know very well that I can get a divorce, and I'm going to have it--if I want it. I am meeting Flossie Lane at midday at my solicitor's. What have you got to say about that?" "That if you keep your word it will be a very happy release for your wife," Wingate replied drily. Dredlinton leaned across the desk. There was an almost satyrlike grin upon his face. "You are a fool," he said. "My wife wants to get rid of me--you and she have talked that over, I have no doubt--but not this way. She is a proud woman, Wingate. The one desire of her life is to be free, but you can take this from me--if I bring my suit and gain my decree on the evidence I shall put before the court---don't forget Flossie Lane, will you?--she'll never raise her head again. That is what I am going to do, unless--" He paused. "Unless what?" Wingate demanded. "Unless you sell those shares to Peter Phipps." Wingate was silent for a few moments. He studied his companion appraisingly. "Dredlinton," he said at last, "I did you an injustice." "I am glad that you are beginning to appreciate the fact," the other replied, with some dignity. "I welcome your confession."