The old frightened look which we have seen on Mrs. Wilders's face before when brought into antagonism with this man returned to it, and her voice was less firm, her manner less defiant, as she said—
"Spare me your threats. You know I am most anxious to oblige you—to help you."
"You have put me off too long with these vague promises. I must have something more tangible at once."
"It is so difficult to find out anything."
"Not if you go the right way to work. A woman of your attractions, your cleverness, ought to be able to twist any man round her finger. You have done it often enough already, goodness knows. Now, there's old Faulks; when did you see him last?"
"Not a week ago."
"And you got nothing out of him? I thought he was devoted to you."
"He is most attentive, most obliging, but still exceedingly wary. He will talk about anything rather than business. I have tried him repeatedly. I have introduced the subject of his nephew, of whom he is now so proud."
"Your enemy, you mean—that young McKay."
"Exactly. I thought that by bringing the conversation to the Crimea I might squeeze out something important. But no! he is always as close as an oyster."