Drummond never took his eyes from her anxious face.
"I was to get a fee of one thousand dollars if I obtained some letters that had passed from her to a man named Lynn Munro. He has gone out of town—has left his rooms unguarded. I have the letters."
She felt a sinking sensation. One thousand dollars!
Suddenly the truth of the situation flashed over her. He had come with an offer that set her bidding against her husband for the letters. And in a case of dollars her husband would win. One thousand dollars! It was blackmail.
"I—I can't afford it," she pleaded weakly. "Can't you make it—less?"
Drummond shook his head. Already he had learned what he had come to learn. She did not have the money.
"No," he replied positively, adding, by way of inserting the knife and turning it around, "I shall have to turn the letters over to him to-day."
She drew herself up. At least she could fight back.
"But you can't prove anything," she cut in quickly.
"Can't I?" he returned. "The letters don't speak for themselves, do they? You don't realize that this interview helps to prove it, do you? An innocent woman wouldn't have considered my offer, much less plead with me. Bah! can't prove anything. Why, it's all in plain black and white!"