"Then let us be going, by all means," said Porshinger sourly. He crossed to where Lorraine was sitting. "It's a new rôle for you, Mr. Complaisant Husband--to defend your wife!" he sneered. "You would better have stirred yourself after Amherst--it might have been to more purpose. Now--you're brave enough to drag her name through the mire of a court--and wash all your dirty linen, including hers. I don't want to tell all I know regarding Mrs. Lorraine, but I'll tell enough to show that there was no _assault_. I _did_ kiss her--a number of times. She's a very kissable lady--but it wasn't by force. _Oh, no!_" Lorraine gripped his chair arms until his knuckles were white, but he controlled himself. Then he arose. "It was because I knew you were such a poltroon that I prosecuted you rather than horse-whipped you," he replied; "and I am careful to abstain from physical violence. You would be only too ready to prosecute me, and so muddy the water. You're too despicable, Porshinger, even to talk to," and he turned his back and walked away. "You might as well start another prosecution, since you seem to be strong on them at present," Porshinger went on. "Why don't you prosecute the new Amherst?" with a look at Pendleton. "The new Amherst!" cried Lorraine, whirling around--"The new Amherst!--What do you mean?" "You poor, blind cuckold!" was the mocking retort. "You've horns growing all over you. You never see anything until it is too late. You're an easy mark, sure enough. Oh, it isn't I--I'm not in the Amherst class, thank God!--but your dear friend Pendleton _is_," raising his voice so that Pendleton could hear. A contemptuously amused look came over Lorraine's face, and he broke into a derisive laugh. "I'm obliged for the information!" he replied. "No doubt you are. If you doubt it, you might ask what your wife and Pendleton were doing on the Criss-Cross piazza, one night about five weeks ago. That was what first put me wise as to Mrs. Lorraine's--possibilities--also capabilities." "You damn coward!" cried Lorraine, springing toward the other.--Then he stopped. "No--you don't lure me to offer you violence," he said. "Time's passing, Mr. Porshinger," said Burke's voice behind him. "If the magistrate's gone, don't blame me." "Ah! thank you for reminding me," Porshinger answered. "Come, we'll go to the telephone," and with a sneering smile at Lorraine, and another at Pendleton as he passed him, he went into the Club-house--Burke following just behind. Porshinger got Dalton, his personal counsel, on the wire. He was just leaving for the day, he remarked when he recognized Porshinger's voice.