"There is nothing fortunate or unfortunate in it. It is the result of my intention. I alone hold the secret, and can make terms with you for keeping it."
"I had scarcely dared to hope that. What are your terms?" He put the question in a bantering tone.
"Last time I mentioned three conditions. Two of them are pointless now, because Madame d'Artelle has fled and your brother is aware of your—shall I term it, policy?"
"I am not much concerned at your phrases," he snapped.
"These are no mere phrases. The third condition stands—you must make Gareth your wife, legally."
"Well?"
"And the fresh condition is that the mystery of my father's ruin is cleared at once, and justice done to his name."
"And if I refuse, I suppose you are going to bring all these trumped-up charges against me. It is almost laughable."
"I do not think many people will see much humour in it."
"Possibly not—but then they may never have an opportunity of hearing the story. You have been very clever—I pay you that compliment—but you have also been very foolish. You should have made sure that there was more than your word for all this."