"It will be convenient to us when you have confessed everything in writing," Virginia flung at her, stung into mercilessness by the woman's brazen defiance. "Then, and not before, you may leave this yacht."
The Countess de Mattos arose from her lowly place as gracefully and with as much dignity as such an act could be performed. While she sat on the floor and Virginia towered over her, the enemy had too much advantage of position. The two were of one height, and, standing, they faced each other like contending goddesses.
"You speak in riddles," said the elder woman.
"Riddles to which you have the key."
"I do not know what you mean, except that it seems to me it is your intention to be insolent."
"In your code, perhaps, honesty is insolence. But I do not wish to forget that, in a way, you are my guest. I asked you to come for a purpose, I admit; yet——"
"Ah! you admit that. Possibly you will condescend to inform me what your purpose was?"
"My purpose was to make assurance doubly sure. To-night I have done this."
"Evidently you do not wish me to understand you."
"Say, rather, you do not wish to understand me. I think you must do so, in spite of yourself; but lest you should not, I will tell you. I suspected that you were the woman whom Maxime Dalahaide was accused of murdering. Now I know that you are not the Countess de Mattos, but Liane Devereux!"