WHITEWASH
"Shut up!" commanded the captain. "Miss Ford, have you anything to prove your statement?"
Philippa dragged at the bosom of her dress; tremblingly she undid the buttons and drew forth two crumpled notes. "There! there!" she cried, "read them. See what he says himself!"
The captain smoothed the rumpled sheets, and read aloud.
There was a pause, and then Philippa wished she had died before she had given up the letters. As the words of endearment spoken in the harsh, mechanical voice of the captain filled the police-station, a burning, writhing shame overpowered her. She had forgotten, in her anxiety to clear herself, the terms of the letters. She clung to the desk, feeling Victoria's honest gray eyes on her burning with indignation. Oh, that Victoria, of all people, should see her in this state!
As the last sentence echoed into silence, Madame Tollé, who up to this moment had stood silent, uttered a sharp cry like a hurt animal as she recognized the handwriting. Then she burst into a torrent of French abuse that made the
