Perplexed and alarmed, Piers held her hand as he tried to calm her. She seemed incapable of telling him what had happened, but kept her eyes fixed upon him in a wild entreaty, and uttered broken phrases which conveyed nothing to him; he gathered at length that she was in fear of some person.
"Sit down and let me hear all about it," he urged.
"Yes, yes--but I'm so ashamed to speak to you about such things. I don't know whether you'll believe me. Oh, the shame--the dreadful shame! It's only because there seems just this hope. How shall I bring myself to tell you?"
"Dear Mrs. Hannaford, we have been friends so long. Trust me to understand you. Of course, of course I shall believe what you say!"
"A dreadful, a shameful thing has happened. How shall I tell you?" Her haggard face flushed scarlet. "My husband has given me notice that he is going to sue for a divorce. He brings a charge against me--a false, cruel charge! It came yesterday. I went to the solicitor whose name was given, and learnt all I could. I have had to hide it from Olga, and oh! what it cost me! At once I thought of you; then it seemed impossible to speak to you; then I felt I must, I must. If only you can believe me! It is--your brother."
Piers was overcome with amazement. He sat looking into the eyes which stared at him with their agony of shame.
"You mean Daniel?" he faltered.
"Yes--Daniel Otway. It is false--it is false! I am not guilty of this! It seems to me like a hateful plot--if one could believe anyone so wicked. I saw him last night. Oh, I must tell you all, else you'll never believe me--I saw him last night. How can anyone behave so to a helpless woman? I never did him anything but kindness. He has me in his power, and he is merciless."
A passion of disgust and hatred took hold on Piers as he remembered the meeting in Piccadilly.
"You mean to say you have put yourself into that fellow's power?" he exclaimed.
"Not willingly! Oh, not willingly! I meant only kindness to him. Yes, I have been weak, I know, and so foolish! It has gone on so long.--You remember when I first saw him, at Ewell? I liked him, just as a friend. Of course I behaved foolishly. It was my miserable life--you know what my life was. But nothing happened--I mean, I never thought of him for a moment as anything but an ordinary friend--until I had my legacy."
The look on the listener's face checked her.
"I begin to understand," said Piers, with bitterness.
"No, no! Don't say that--don't speak like that!"
"It's not you I am thinking of, Mrs. Hannaford. As soon as money comes in--. But tell me plainly. I have perfect confidence in what you say, indeed I have."
"It does me good to hear you say that! I can tell you all, now that I have begun. It is true, he _did_ ask me to go away with him, again and again. But he had no right to do that--I was foolish in showing that I liked him. Again and again I forbade him ever to see me; I tried so hard to break off! It was no use. He always wrote, wherever I was, sending his letters to Dr. Derwent to be forwarded. He made me meet him at all sorts of places--using threats at last. Oh, what I have gone through!"
"No doubt," said Piers gently, "you have lent him money?"
She reddened again; her head sank.
"Yes--I have lent him money, when he was in need. Just before the death of your father."
"Once only?"
"Once--or twice----"
"To be sure. Lately, too, I daresay?"
"Yes----"
"Then you quite understand his character?"
"I do now," Mrs. Hannaford replied wretchedly. "But I must tell you more. If it were only a suspicion of my husband's I should hardly care at all. But someone must have betrayed me to him, and have told deliberate falsehoods. I am accused--it was when I was at the seaside once--and he came to the same hotel--Oh, the shame, the shame!"
She covered her face with her hands, and turned away.
"Why," cried Piers, in wrath, "that fellow is quite capable of having betrayed you himself. I mean, of lying about you for his own purposes."
"You think he could be so wicked?"
"I don't doubt it for a moment. He has done his best to persuade you to ruin yourself for him, and he thinks, no doubt, that if you are divorced, nothing will stand between him and you--in other words, your money."
"He said, when I saw him yesterday, that now it had come to this, I had better take that step at once. And when I spoke of my innocence, he asked who would believe it? He seemed sorry; really he did. Perhaps he is not so bad as one fears?"
"Where did you see him yesterday?" asked Otway.
"At his lodgings. I was _obliged_ to go and see him as soon as possible. I have never been there before. He behaved very kindly. He said of course he should declare my innocence----"
"And in the same breath assured you no one would believe it? And advised you to go off with him at once?"
"I know how bad it seems," said Mrs. Hannaford. "And yet, it is all my own fault--my own long folly. Oh, you must wonder why I have brought you here to tell you this! It's because there is no one else I could speak to, as a friend, and I felt I should go mad if I couldn't ask someone's advice. Of course I could go to a lawyer--but I mean someone who would sympathise with me. I am not very strong; you know I have been ill: this blow seems almost more than I can bear; I thought I would ask you if you could suggest anything--if you would see him, and try to arrange something." She looked at Piers distractedly. "Perhaps money would help. My husband has been having money from me; perhaps if we offered him more? Ought I to see him, myself? But there is ill-feeling between us; and I fear he would be glad to injure me, glad!"
"I will see Daniel," said Piers, trying to see hope where reason told him there was none. "With him, at all events, money can do much."
"You will? You think you may be able to help me? I am in such terror when I think of my brother hearing of this. And Irene! Think, if it becomes public--everyone talking about the disgrace--what will Irene do? Just at the time of her marriage!" She held out her hands, pleadingly. "You would be glad to save Irene from such a shame?"
Piers had not yet seen the scandal from this point of view. It came upon him with a shock, and he stood speechless.
"My husband hates them," pursued Mrs. Hannaford, "and you don't know what _his_ hatred means. Just for that alone, he will do his worst against me--hoping to throw disgrace on the Derwents."
"I doubt very much," said Piers, who had been thinking hard, "whether, in any event, this would affect the Derwents in people's opinion."
"You don't think so? But do you know Arnold Jacks? I feel sure he is the kind of man who would resent bitterly such a thing as this. He is very proud--proud in just that kind of way--do you understand? Oh, I know it would make trouble between him and Irene."
"In that case," Piers began vehemently, and at once checked himself.
"What were you going to say?"
"Nothing that could help us."
When he raised his eyes again, Mrs. Hannaford was gazing at him with pitiful entreaty.
"For _her_ sake," she said, in a low, shaken voice, "you will try to do something?"
"If only I can!"
"Yes! I know you! You are good and generous--It ought surely to be possible to stop this before it gets