PASSION
She came to him in a few moments, dressed in a fascinating negligée gown,—came to him with a rustle of silk and a faint expression of surprise upon her upraised eyebrows.
"I did not expect you until this evening," she remarked.
He nodded. "I took the liberty of coming here to ask you a question."
She smiled as she sat down upon the sofa. "Oh, the paper is quite safe."
"How did you know what I came for?" he asked, a little startled.
"My dear friend," she said, shrugging her shoulders, "as I have decided that it is to my interests to link my future with yours, you cannot wonder that I have found such details as those"—she pointed to an evening paper which he noticed now lying upon her writing-table—"interesting. I have been trying to understand how matters stand. Tell me if I am right! It seems to me that so long as that document remains an imagined thing, so long as it is not produced or sworn to definitely, you are safe."
"The corporation is safe," answered Deane, "and in a measure, I suppose, I am. On the other hand, I shall be accused, naturally, of suppressing it, and probably of complicity in Sinclair's murder. There is Hefferom, you see, prepared to swear that Sinclair came to London with that paper in his possession. Sinclair is known to have come to my office. He has certainly been murdered. The paper cannot be found, and the corporation remains in possession of the mine. People will certainly put these things together."
She nodded. "It will be very bad indeed," she said slowly, "for your reputation."
"It will, I am afraid," said Deane, "considerably lessen my social value as your husband."
"It seems to me," she replied, "that money is so powerful. I daresay you will be able to live it down."
"With your help," Deane remarked sarcastically, "it seems to me very possible. By the bye," he continued, "with reference to that document, you must forgive me if I feel some slight uneasiness at times as to its safety."
"You need have none," she answered. "It is in safe keeping."
"It is your own interests as well as mine you are guarding," he reminded her.
"I am perfectly aware of it," she answered. "Since you are here, may I offer you some tea?"
"Thanks," he said, "I think not. By the bye, do you care to go to the Opera to-night? I have two stalls, and Melba is singing."
A sudden light flashed over her face. It was as though the mask had been raised for a moment. Perhaps by contrast her tone seemed colder than ever as she answered him. "I should like to very much. Will you call for me?"
"At half-past seven," he answered. "We will have a little dinner somewhere first."
"You are sure," she asked, "that you do not mind being seen out?"
"It is all to my advantage," he answered. "The men who are most talked about should never shrink from publicity. The people who have been told to-day that I am a bankrupt, a swindler, and a murderer, and that my ruin is only a matter of minutes, will hesitate if they see me with you in the stalls of the Opera to-night."
"Nero fiddled," she reminded him.
"Nero was a hysterical person," he answered. "My tendencies are towards the other extreme. Until half-past seven, then."
"Until half-past seven," she repeated.
He bowed and left her without even shaking hands. She stood quite still for a moment, looking at the door which he had closed behind him. Then she crossed the room slowly, and lifted the vase with its solitary rose to her lips. A second later it lay dashed to pieces upon the floor, the flaming color was in her cheeks, her fists were clenched.
"I hate him!" she declared to herself. "I hate him now more than ever!"
