As their eyes remained fastened on each other he felt an awe seize him, and he for the moment forgot his design. He drew back and said, almost submissively: “God, you are brave, and beautiful as brave. I can’t harm you.” And he slowly lowered the revolver.
Even then a sudden recovery from his weakness developed a new plan of attack. Virginia’s unerring instinct, however, warned her to mistrust his flattering declaration. “It’s a subterfuge,” she thought, “cunningly devised to draw me away from the table.” She remained silent, but more watchful, if possible, than before.
On abandoning a bullying policy, Rutley had moved step by step toward the table opposite to Virginia, and finally placed his left hand on it. His assumed admiration was well sustained and his changed line of persuasion, though its sincerity she doubted, promised in the end success.
“The wrongs I have done,” he continued, “had better not have been done, I acknowledge, but they are mended. Worse might have been. Our meeting in this room was accidental. My presence in this house is known only to you. Will you aid me to escape?”
“Aid you to escape!” she repeated, in tones that had lost their agitation, and which now seemed natural and only to carry a note of indignation. “You, the man who nearly wrecked my brother’s home, betrayed his trust and would have robbed him of his life. You, the man who kidnapped his child, caused his wife to lose her reason, and whose death may yet add murder to your other crimes—dare ask me to help you escape?”
“Yes,” he slowly replied. And feeling that his hand rested firmly on the table, he began cautiously to lean forward, meanwhile saying in a soft, insinuating voice: “I dare ask you to help me escape, for I mistake if in a nature where such courage and gentleness exist there beats a heart irresponsive to the cry of distress.
“I am down, and standing on the threshold of a long term of imprisonment. Again I appeal to you and offer this weapon as a pledge of good faith,” and he laid the revolver on the table.
The tension on Virginia’s nerves relaxed, her voice became steadier, calmer and more natural. “Why did you vilify the character of Constance, a frail, innocent woman, whose piety and goodness made her incapable of doing you harm by thought, word or deed?”
“Revenge on Thorpe,” he replied, “for closing my office.”
As the words slowly issued from between his lips, his weight on the table increased—he felt his control of it was now sure.