"I don't believe it," Max said with conviction.
Bertrand smiled rather ruefully. "No? But yet the evidence was against
me. And me, I did not contradict the evidence."
"I see. You were shielding someone. Who was it? Rupert?"
At Bertrand's quick start Max also smiled with grim humour. "You see, I
know my own people rather well. I'm glad it wasn't Chris, anyway. Then
she had nothing at all to do with your quarrel with Trevor?"
"Nothing," Bertrand said--"nothing." He paused a moment, then added, with
something of an effort, "But I had decided that I would go before that.
Mr. Mordaunt did not know why."
"Because of Chris?" There was a touch of sharpness in Max's voice.
Bertrand bent his head. "You were right that night. A man cannot hope to
hide his heart for ever from the woman whom he loves."
"You told her, then?"
"It arrived without telling," Bertrand answered with simplicity.
"That means she cares for you?" Max said shrewdly.
Bertrand looked up. "_Mais c'est passe_," he said, his voice very low.
"You have guessed the truth, but you only know it. Her husband--"
"My dear fellow, that's just the mischief.
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