She tried to laugh.
"So—murderous?"
His face worked.
"Bella," he said, "I've not been altogether blind about you and Treving."
She exclaimed impatiently, but her shiver was repeated, and the uncertainty of her voice lingered.
"You're not going to commence on that!"
He brushed her interruption aside.
"But Treving's seemed a decent enough sort in spite of the way he spends his money and his Broadway record, and, you see, Bella, I've always trusted you unquestioningly."
"And now? Tell me what you're driving at, John. I won't put up—"
She sprang to her feet, facing him, wide-eyed, furious, yet, one would have suspected, not completely free from apprehension.
Randall touched her arm.
"Don't work yourself up, Bella. You know. I've told you. It's bad for you."
"What do you expect, when you insinuate—"
"What have I insinuated, provided your conscience's clear?"
He urged her back to the chair.
"It's just this: we must talk it out. I've a right to know how far this folly's gone—what it portends, so that I can take measures of defence for myself and for my wife."
She yielded and sat down, but now she bent for-
