“Poor deluded Derry,” said Virginia uncertainly: “I feel quite sorry for
him.”
“You’ll feel much more sorry for him to-morrow morning,” said Roger
violently.
“Why?”
“In fact,” said Captain Chase darkly, “I shouldn’t faint with surprise
if he felt sorry for himself.”
“Why?”
“Well, you don’t think I’m going to pass this over, do you? D’you think
I’m going to have my wife hugged an’ kissed in broad—broad
lamp-light——”
“In her own coupé, at her own request.”
“Never,” shouted Roger. “He was assaulting her.”
“Then why,” said Virginia swiftly, “why didn’t you stop the car?”
Captain Chase started. “I thought men fell over themselves to rescue,
er, virtue in distress. Oh, and when you tackle Derry, supposing he
denies it, what are you going to say?”
“I shall say I saw him.”
“Where from? The interior of his own car . . . which you were sharing
with his wife . . . at one o’clock in the morning . . . five miles from
Berkeley Square?”
The sudden perception that his guns were spiked seemed to deprive
Captain Chase of the power of utterance.