If he had been free he would have half killed Ashton. His hands ached to get at him; to take him by his lying throat and choke the breath from his body.
He looked at the men around him with passionate eyes.
"I've never given any of you cause to doubt my word yet," he said hoarsely. "And I'm sure you'll agree with me that this man should be made to retract what he said and apologise."
"Certainly--he ought to apologise. It's disgraceful--infernally disgraceful," said a man who had been listening to Ashton's story eagerly enough a moment ago.
There was a chorus of assent. The men who had been holding Micky's arms let him go.
His face was livid, his eyes furious, but he knew that there was no other course open to him; nobody in the room had any sympathy with him now.
"I apologise," he said savagely. "I didn't know that--the--lady--Mellowes had married--the lady."
His tone added that even now he did not believe it; he edged away to the door and disappeared.
Micky dropped into a chair; he looked thoroughly done up. Some one pushed a glass of whisky across to him. There was an uncomfortable silence. Perhaps they were all feeling guilty; perhaps they all remembered with what relish they had listened to this spicy bit of scandal.
"Never could stand Ashton," some one said presently, in gruff abasement. "Worm--the man is!--perfect outsider!"
There were several grunts of assent; the sympathy was decidedly with Micky.
"I suppose an apology is due from me too," he said; he spoke with difficulty. "But I think any of you--in the same circumstances----"
"Quite right--certainly.... Should have done the same myself."
"And I am sure you won't let this go any further--for--for my wife's sake," he added.
They pressed round him, shaking him by the hand and reassuring him. Micky took it for what it was worth. He knew that those of them who were married men would go straight home and tell their wives of the scene at Hoopers', and he knew how speedily the story would spread.
He got away as soon as he could and left the house.
He never gave Marie another thought, till he found himself out in the street and walking away through the fresh spring night.
He took off his hat and let the air blow on his hot forehead; his hand still trembled with excitement.