“You know all you want to know, it seems, already,” he answered, sullenly, and at that I lost patience with him wholly.
“If I am not answered at once and without reserve,” I said, “I will keep my part of the bargain, and leave you to your chance. Who paid you?”
“You can do what you like,” he answered, rising. “I'm not going to betray a lady, anyhow.”
“Thank you,” I answered, with a more bitter disdain than I can easily express in words. “If you choose to make your confession in that form, it is as useful to me as it would be in any other. You were paid for this by a lady. Who was she? You will find it agreeable to have a little force exerted for the satisfaction of your own conscience, if that is the name you give it. Who was the lady?”
“I don't know that I'm bound to risk my life for her,” he answered. “It's in her way of business, and she's paid for it.”
“And who is she?” I demanded once again.
“The Baroness Bonnar,” said Brunow.
CHAPTER XVI
To say that I was not astonished would be absurd; but the words had scarcely been spoken a moment when I began to be aware that I was wondering at my own amazement. On the whole, there was nobody whom I knew and nobody at whose existence I could have guessed who was quite so likely to be engaged in an affair of that nature as the Baroness Bonnar.