"God save me for a quibbler!" he thought. "A lie by inference and intended to deceive--though true enough in word--is none the less a lie. Yet for Stephanie's sake, I am remitted to it. The little woman was right--and I was a fool!" Lorraine put out his hand; and Pendleton took it, feeling like a dog but smiling ingenuously. "Woodside's place adjoins Criss-Cross and Porshinger visits him, you know; he was invited to the Chamberlains, one Sunday when we were there," Pendleton observed. "He might have seen me with Stephanie at that time; he might even have used a field-glass from Woodside's or say he did; and he might have seen us sitting together and concocted a story to fit his purposes." "More than likely concocted it while he was saying it!" Lorraine exclaimed. "He wanted to embroil me with you--split the opposition into fighting among themselves, when they should stand together. Well--it hasn't succeeded. Nevertheless I thought it best that we should have it out at once, so as to have no misunderstanding hereafter." "It was much the best way!" Pendleton agreed--"Much the best way. I thank you for giving me a chance to deny--and for accepting my denial." "My dear Pendleton," Lorraine exclaimed, "you don't think I would have made that request of you at the Hospital--to watch over Stephanie--to protect her from herself--if I had doubted you or ever should doubt you?" "I shouldn't suppose so!" Pendleton answered. Then he switched the conversation--it was too acutely personal--he was writhing under it. He would much have preferred to tell Lorraine the truth--and stand shamed. But he might not on Stephanie's account. "I think I'll go in and telephone Cameron about the case, and ask him to look after it," said Lorraine. "It needs a lawyer. It would have been wiser, I admit, if I had had a lawyer from the start." "_Before_ it started," amended Pendleton. "Will you be here this evening?" Pendleton nodded. "Then I'll ask him to talk it over with you also. I'm very tired. I think I'll go home presently, if you don't mind." Pendleton wanted to take him by the shoulders and fling him into his car--anything to be rid of him. "Not in the least," he replied--"I'll talk it over with Cameron." Presently Lorraine returned. "I've told Cameron everything," he said. "He will be here about six o'clock. I asked him to see you. I'll call you up to-morrow. Good by!" After a moment, Pendleton arose and went into the house. Choosing a magazine at random from the table, he crossed to a retired corner of the big living-room and buried himself behind it--not to read, but to think.