“Ah! You are very hard and cruel. What have you done with it?”
“All in good time. You thought you had got me safe enough, didn’t you, when I perjured my soul, for your sake, to ruin that miserable young fellow? I hadn’t found out about you then; but knowing you, I had had the wit to keep my piece of evidence as a precaution. My word would have gone for nothing by itself; but with that to back it you were dished and done for, Tizzy. I got just a fragment of pleasure out of the thought of your face when you received my letter, without an address, telling you what I’d kept and had in my power to use.”
“Did you? That is very well. I tell you it almost breaks the heart that loves you so much. Such cruel treachery!”
“Well, it was lucky for you I saw your advertisement. And now just tell me what you meant by talking about forgiveness in it.”
“It seems so base of you, little girl. You had chosen to misunderstand. My connection with Miss Barnes was one of sympathy and mutual assistance in a difficulty. You were never once forgotten by me—no, never; and I had to have a type-writer.”
“I’m a fool, Tizzy. I despise you and I mistrust you; but, God help me, I love you. I shall know why someday, I daresay. I don’t now; but I can’t help it. Do you know why I wired you to meet me here?”
“How can I?”
“It is hidden in this house, where I knew I could get it when I wanted it, having Valkenburg’s key. I didn’t fancy the risk of keeping it about me.”
“Where, Jennett, little darling?”
“Shall I tell you at last?”