“As far as one could judge,” he said very calmly, but with an air which suggested a certain amused contempt under his quiet manner, “Madame Rocada appeared to accuse _me_ of being the ringleader in the offences of which she spoke. Wasn’t that your impression, Sir Barnaby?” he went on, turning to the baronet, who appeared disconcerted by the direct question, and who looked, as indeed he felt, reluctant to take further part in this unpleasant scene, in which a young, beautiful and unhappy woman was forced, as it were, to stand at bay against six or eight men. “Oh, really I don’t know. I heard nobody in particular accused, except Johnson and Diggs,” answered Sir Barnaby. “Haven’t we had enough of it? It’s confoundedly awkward!” he added in a lower voice to Candover, trying to hook him by the arm and lead him away. “I think,” said Sir Harry, who felt the implied imputation upon Mr. Candover the more keenly that he was a great admirer of that gentleman’s pretty daughter, “that Madame Rocada ought to do one thing or the other. Either to let us know who are the other members of what she calls the ‘gang,’ or else--to withdraw the imputations she has certainly made.” Sir Barnaby caught at the suggestion. “Oh, certainly, certainly. I’m sure Madame will be ready to do that. We all allow--we can’t deny that there were two black sheep, and that we were very dull not to have found them out before. I feel sure Madame said a little more than she meant to do, and that she is just as anxious to put an end to this as any of us. Aren’t you, Madame Rocada?” And he turned to Audrey, with real concern in his eyes, genuinely anxious to make it easy for her to retreat from the daring and dangerous position she had taken up. But Audrey would not retract. On the other hand, as it was useless for her to try to maintain her position by words which, she felt, would only be looked upon as wild and malignant accusations, she merely said, looking at Sir Barnaby, and speaking in a low and unsteady voice:-- “I have nothing more to say--nothing.” “No, of course not. And you retract all accusations, or supposed accusations, don’t you?” persisted the baronet, putting his good-natured red face persuasively near to hers, and smiling into her eyes in a coaxing manner which met with no response. “I don’t retract,” she said simply. “There is nothing I can retract. And some day--sooner or later--you will all find out that what I’ve said is true.” Then she sailed away through the room to the door, and the men instinctively made way for her, while Sir Harry, who was the nearest to the door, opened it for her to pass out. But before she could do so, while therefore she was still within hearing, there sounded suddenly through the room these words, spoken by Mr. Candover in a voice which was carefully subdued as if to escape her ears, but which was, in reality, so pitched that, while it was scarcely more than a whisper, every word reached her ears distinctly:--