“What proof have I of that?” said Piers, his voice low and fierce.

Tudor made a slight gesture of disgust.  “I am dealing with facts, not proofs,” he said.  “You know as well as I do that though you obtained her love on false pretences, still you obtained it.  Whether you will keep it or not remains to be seen, but she is not the sort of woman to solace herself with anyone else.  If you lose it, it will be because you failed to guard your own property—­not because anyone deprived you of it.”

“Damnation!” exclaimed Piers furiously, and with the word the storm of his anger broke like a fiery torrent, sweeping all before it, “are you taking me to task, you—­you—­for this accursed trick of Fate?  How was I to know that this infernal little sot would turn up here?  Why, I don’t so much as know the fellow’s name!  I had forgotten his very existence!  Where the devil is he?  Let me find him, and break every bone in his body!” He whirled round to the door, but in a moment was back again.  “Tudor!  Damn you!  Where’s the key?”

“In my pocket,” said Tudor quietly.  “And, Piers, before you go—­since I am your ally in spite of myself—­let me warn you to keep your head!  There’s no sense in murdering another man.  It won’t improve your case.  There’s no sense in running amok.  Sit down for Heaven’s sake, and review the situation quietly!”

The calm words took effect.  Piers stopped, arrested in spite of himself by the other’s steady insistence.  He looked at Tudor with half-sullen respect dawning behind his ungoverned fury.

“Listen!” Tudor said.  “The fellow has gone.  I packed him off myself.  It was a piece of sheer ill-luck that brought him home in time for this show.  He starts for America en route for Australia in less than a week, and it is utterly unlikely that either you or any of your friends will see or hear anything more of him.  Guyes himself is by no means keen on him and only had him as best man because a friend failed him at the last minute.  If you behave rationally the whole affair will probably pass off of itself.  Everyone knows the fellow was intoxicated, and no one is likely to pay any lasting attention to what he said.  Treat the matter as unworthy of notice, and you will very possibly hear no more of it!  But if you kick up a row, you will simply court disaster.  I am an older man than you are.  Take my word for it,—­I know what I am talking about.”

Piers listened in silence.  The heat had gone from his face, but his eyes still gleamed with a restless fire.

Tudor watched him keenly.  Not by his own choice would he have ranged himself on Piers’ side, but circumstances having placed him there he was oddly anxious to effect his deliverance.  He was fighting heavy odds, and he knew it, but there was a fighting strain in his nature also.  He relished the odds.

“For Heaven’s sake don’t be a fool and give the whole show away!” he urged.  “You have no enemies.  No one will want to take the matter up if you will only let it lie.  No one wants to believe evil of you.  Possibly no one will.”