Gertie breathed rather rapidly for a moment or two.  She was not altogether displeased.  She understood perfectly, and it seemed to her rather pleasant that two men should get into this kind of situation over her.  She was aware that trouble would come to herself later, probably in the form of personal chastisement, but to the particular kind of feminine temperament that she possessed even a beating was not wholly painful, and the cheap kind of drama in which she found herself was wholly attractive.  After an instant’s pause, she cast towards Frank what she believed to be a “proud” glance and marched out.

“If you’ve got much to say,” said Frank rapidly, as the door closed, “you’d better keep it for this evening.  I’ve got to go in ... in two minutes.”

“Two minutes will be ample,” said the Major softly.

Frank waited.

“When I find a friend,” went on the other, “engaged in an apparently exciting kind of conversation, which he informs me is private, with one who is in the position of my wife—­particularly when I catch a sentence or two obviously not intended for my ears—­I do not ask what was the subject of the conversation, but I—­”

“My dear man,” said Frank, “do put it more simply.”

The Major was caught, so to speak, full in the wind.  His face twitched with anger.

Then he flung an oath at Frank.

“If I catch you at it again,” he said, “there’ll be trouble.  God damn you!”

“That is as it may be,” said Frank.

The Major had had just one drink too much, and he was in the kind of expansive mood that changes very rapidly.

“Can you tell me you were not trying to take her from me?” he cried, almost with pathos in his voice.

This was, of course, exactly what Frank had been trying to do.

“You can’t deny it!...  Then I tell you this, Mr. Frankie”—­the Major sprang up—­“one word more from you to her on that subject ... and ... and you’ll know it.  D’you understand me?”

He thrust his face forward almost into Frank’s.

It was an unpleasant face at most times, but it was really dangerous now.  His lips lay back, and the peculiar hot smell of spirit breathed into Frank’s nostrils.  Frank turned and looked into his eyes.

“I understand you perfectly,” he said.  “There’s no need to say any more.  And now, if you’ll forgive me, I must get back to my work.”

He took up his cap and went out.

* * * * *

The Major, as has been said, had had one glass too much, and he had, accordingly, put into words what, even in his most suspicious moments, he had intended to keep to himself.  It might be said, too, that he had put into words what he did not really think.  But the Major was, like everyone else, for good or evil, a complex character, and found it perfectly possible both to believe and disbelieve the same idea simultaneously.  It depended in what stratum the