Of course, I never guessed what was going to happen."
"Then it was Wingrave," Barrington muttered, "who played the game?"
"Yes!" Lady Ruth answered quietly. "But I am not so sure about him
now. You and I, Lumley, know one another a little better today than we
did twelve years ago. We have had a few of the corners knocked off, I
suppose. I can tell you things now I didn't care to then. Wingrave had
lent me money before! He has letters from me today, thanking him for
it."
Barrington was a large, florid man, well built and well set up. In
court he presented rather a formidable appearance with his truculent
chin, his straight, firm mouth, and his commanding presence. Yet there
was nothing about him now which would have inspired fear in the most
nervous of witnesses. He looked like a man all broken up by some
unexpected shock.
"If he had produced those letters--at the trial--"
Lady Ruth shrugged her shoulders.
"I risked it, anyhow," she said. "I had to. My story was the only one
which gave me a dog's chance, and I didn't mean to go under--then.
Wingrave never gave me away, but I fancy he's feeling differently
about it now!"
"How do you know, Ruth?"
"I have seen him! He sent for me!" she answered. "Lumley, don't look
at me like that! We're not in the nursery, you and I. I went because I
had to. He's going to America for a time, and then he's coming back
here. I think that when he comes back--he means mischief!"
"He is not the sort of man to forget," Barrington said, half to
himself.
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