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Lambert nodded thankfully. He felt doubtful as to whether Miss Greeby really had meant to renounce her absurd passion for himself, and it was a relief to find that she had been acting honestly. "Has she then learned who killed Pine?" he asked cautiously.

Lady Agnes suddenly rose and began to pace the room, twisting her gloves and trying to control herself. Usually she was so composed that Lambert wondered at this restlessness. He wondered still more when she burst into violent tears, and therefore hastened to draw her back to the chair. When she was seated he knelt beside her and passed his arm round her neck, as distressed as she was. It was so unlike Agnes to break down in this way, and more unlike her to sob brokenly. "Oh, I'm afraid—I'm afraid."

"Afraid of what, darling?"

"I'm afraid to learn who killed my husband. He might have done so, and yet he only fired the first shot—"

"Agnes," Lambert rose up suddenly, "are you talking of Garvington?"

"Yes." She leaned back and dried her tears. "In spite of what he says, I am afraid he may be guilty."

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Lambert's heart seemed to stand still. "You talk rubbish!" he cried angrily.

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"I wish it was. Oh, how I wish it was rubbish! But I can't be sure. Of course, he may have meant what he says—"

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"What does he say? Tell me everything. Oh, heavens!" Lambert clutched his smooth hair. "What does it all mean?"

"Ruin to the Lambert family. I told you so."

"You have only told me scraps so far. I don't understand how you can arrive at the conclusion that Garvington is guilty. Agnes, don't go on crying in so unnecessary a way. If things have to be faced, surely we are strong enough to face them. Don't let our emotions make fools of us. Stop it! Stop it!" he said sharply and stamping. "Dry your eyes and explain matters."

"I—I can't help my feelings," faltered Agnes, beginning to respond to the spur, and becoming calmer.