Undisturbed, the woman turned to Caruth. “Lend me a thousand dollars,” she requested.
Caruth started. Then, with a smile, he took out his pocket-book and added its contents to the pile. “There’s only about seven hundred here, Wilkins,” he remarked, half humorously, “but I’ll give you my check for the balance—if you’ll accept it.”
The letter rustled in Wilkins’s fingers as he twisted and turned it. Obviously he was tempted. Yet, after a quick questioning glance at the woman’s face, he again shook his head. “No, madam,” he replied coolly. “Bill took a good deal of trouble to get this to me, and I fancy it’s valuable. Any way, I think I’ll chance it, madam.”
“Valuable!” The woman stared at the valet in seeming surprise. “Nonsense!” she scoffed. “What could your Bill tell you that could be worth eighteen hundred dollars. If you suppose that the information I hope it contains will be worth anything to you in a money way, you are mistaken. It would cost you your life to try to use it. Be wise: take the money and give me the letter. The value of the letter to us lies chiefly in preventing other people from getting it.”
“Very well, madam. I’ll destroy it, then, madam.” He stepped to the fire and made a motion to throw it upon the flames.
Like a cat, the woman sprang forward and caught his arm, her silken skirts hissing as she moved. “No, no!” she cried.
A triumphant smile curled the valet’s lips. “Very well, madam,” he acceded meekly. “As you wish, madam.”
LIKE A CAT, THE WOMAN SPRANG FORWARD AND CAUGHT HIS ARM
The woman fell back a step, and stood staring at the valet. For the first time, she seemed to try to take his measure as a man, and to bend her faculties to reading the lines of his features. “Humph!” she murmured, at last, in a singular tone. “I am beginning to see. How long have you been with Mr. Caruth, Wilkins?”