“Why should you say that? By what right or license do you come within my house to harass—to torture me?”
Frank Amberley was almost amazed by the singular effect his few preparatory words seemed to have, and could not reasonably account for it. This woman’s demeanor was entirely different from what Paul Desfrayne had yesterday prognosticated it would be. Why should she evidence this fear—this shrinking? He felt there must be some further mystery to solve, some new secret to unravel. Had he known the contents of the telegram then waiting for him in Alderman’s Lane, he would have had a clue. As it was, he was mystified.
Had Lucia Guiscardini, on the other hand, known the simple nature of his errand, she would have entirely controlled herself. But she already in fancy could imagine his arresting grip on her shoulder, and the odd query rose in her mind: “Will he handcuff me?”
“By what right do I come?” Frank Amberley slowly repeated, watching every change and variation in her agitated face. “By the right of justice.”
“Justice? I do not understand you.”
“Oh! yes, you do. I may as well inform you that Captain Desfrayne, the man whom you so basely, so ungratefully entrapped into an illegal marriage—the man whose life you have blighted, whose happiness you have ruined——”
“Well? Be brief, I beg of you, for, as I told you at first, my time is limited, and most precious,” interrupted Madam Guiscardini.
This circumlocution, however, gave her a ray of hope that her first fear was groundless.
“Captain Desfrayne has told me the whole miserable story of infamous deception.”
“What story?”