“Well, I can only say that in the course of my experience I have several times tried to get at the truth where a man and a woman were concerned, and I never succeeded. You may be more fortunate.”
The marchioness darted a suspicious look at him.
“One thing I mean to know anyway, and that is, who were behind that curtain.”
Despencer stole a glance at her sideways.
“There I think you are unwise. It is always so much better not to know who are behind the curtain.”
The marchioness sat up and frowned in earnest.
“That shows that you think it was my husband and Belle Yorke. Mr. Despencer, I can see that there is some connection between those two, and that you know all about it.”
Despencer smiled pleasantly, with the satisfaction of a general who sees the enemy march straight into the ambush he has prepared. He could even afford to play with his victim.
“Oh, my dear marchioness, what do you take me for?” he returned, with an insincerity not intended to deceive. “Am I a necromancer? Am I the author of ‘Who’s Who’?”
But, much to his inward disappointment, he was saved from further questioning by the entrance at this juncture of the marchioness’s nephew, to whom she had sent an urgent summons before Despencer’s arrival.