“Now it appears she has run away to some showrooms she has near Bond Street, where there was a scene, a most unpleasant scene, as recently as yesterday afternoon. It appears she was followed there by a number of the men who had been robbed at her house at Epsom, and there was an explanation asked for. Your wife, still passing as Madame Rocada, a name one would have thought she would have dropped on hearing the associations connected with it, turned round upon them all, told them that they had only themselves to thank if they were cheated, and said that one-half of them were swindlers, and professed only to have discovered the fact a day or two ago.” “And may not that have been true?” asked Gerard, in the same low, hoarse voice. Edgar answered for his father:-- “No. Impossible. I had it from Archdale, one of the best fellows going, that there was no one present but men of the highest standing--Sir Barnaby Joyce, Reginald Candover----” Again Gerard looked up. But this time, though he frowned slightly, he said nothing. Edgar went on: “And half a dozen other men equally well known. It seems your wife behaved like a fury, so that at last--to calm her, Candover was obliged to--to----” “To do what?” “To remind her that she herself was----” “The wife of--of a convict, I suppose?” said Gerard steadily. Lord Clanfield drew himself up indignantly. “He had no right to say that!” he cried angrily. “No. I don’t say he had. But think of the provocation! She called them a gang of swindlers!” “And didn’t you say some of you had been swindled?” “Yes. But she was talking to the victims.” Gerard bent his head again, and said nothing. He was taking the whole story with uncanny calmness, almost, thought the others, as if his brain had lost some of its reasoning power. Not a sign did he give of the burst of tempestuous indignation they had all expected. He merely let his head hang forward again, and listened, with clasped hands, while Geoffrey went on:-- “Of course, there’s no end of a row and a scandal, and some take her part and think there’s someone behind her, who does the work and makes her the figure-head. Sir Barnaby’s one of those. You know what an eye he has for a pretty face.” Gerard moved uneasily, but said nothing. “Well, he and one or two more are round again at her place to-day, and everybody’s awaiting interesting developments. Nobody thinks _she_ will come to any harm. In fact, the general opinion is that she’s confoundedly artful, and that she got up this scene to attract attention, and--to nail Sir Barnaby.” Not even this insinuation had the effect of rousing Gerard to any open expression of indignation. He just sat as before, huddled up in his chair, staring at the fire, while the others offered different, more or less guarded, comments on the unpleasant news.