She had had no conversation with Edward for many years--none
that went beyond the mere arrangements for taking trains or
engaging servants. But that afternoon she had to let him have it.
And he had been just the same as ever. It was like opening a book
after a decade to find the words the same. He had the same
motives. He had not wished to tell her about the case because he
had not wished her to sully her mind with the idea that there was
such a thing as a brother officer who could be a blackmailer--and
he had wanted to protect the credit of his old light of love. That
lady was certainly not concerned with her husband. And he swore,
and swore, and swore, that there was nothing else in the world
against him. She did not believe him.
He had done it once too often--and she was wrong for the first
time, so that he acted a rather creditable part in the matter. For he
went right straight out to the post-office and spent several hours in
coding a telegram to his solicitor, bidding that hard-headed man
to threaten to take out at once a warrant against the fellow who
was on his track. He said afterwards that it was a bit too thick on
poor old Leonora to be ballyragged any more.
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