verify. Then she took another sip.

Then she said; "Are you sure this wine's corked?"

Corked wine at the end of a really good meal is a bitter blow to any man,
an exceedingly bitter blow to a man of Lord Loudwater's sensitiveness in
such matters.

"Am I sure? Hey? Am I sure? Yes! I am sure, you little fool!" he
bellowed. "What do you know about wine? Talk about things you
understand!"

Lady Loudwater's face was twisted by a faint spasm of hate which left it
flushed. She would never grow used to being bellowed at for a fool. Once
more her husband's refusal to let her take her meals apart from him
seemed monstrous. Hardly ever did she rise from one at which she had not
been abused and insulted. She realized indeed that she had been foolish
to ask the question. But why should she sit tongue-tied before the brute?

She took another sip and said quietly: "It isn't corked."

Then she turned cold with fright.

Lord Loudwater could not believe his ears. It could not be that his wife
had contradicted him flatly. It--could--_not_--be.

He was still incredulous, breathing heavily, when the door opened and
James Hutchings appeared on the threshold. In his right hand he held the
decanter of offending port, in his left a sound cork.