“You can consult with me,” she persisted. “Our aims are the same. We are here for the same purpose.”
“Not altogether,” he objected. “I brought you here as my assistant.”
“Did you?”
“Well, have the truth, then!” he exclaimed. “I brought you here to be alone with you, because I hoped that I might find you a little kinder.”
“I am afraid you have been disappointed, haven’t you?” she asked sweetly.
“I have,” he answered, with unpleasant meaning in his tone, “but we are not out of here yet.”
“You cannot frighten me,” she assured him. “Of course, you are a man—of a sort—and I am a woman, but I do not fancy that you would find, if it came to force, that you would have much of an advantage. However, we are wandering from the point. I claim an equal right with you to see anything which you may discover in Mr. Orden’s papers. I might, indeed, if I chose, claim a prior right.”
“Indeed?” he answered, with an ugly scowl on his face. “Mr. Julian Orden is by way of being a particular friend, eh?”
“As a matter of fact,” Catherine told him, “we are engaged to be married. It isn’t a serious engagement. It was entered into by him in a most chivalrous manner, to save me from the consequences of a very clumsy attempt on my part to get back that packet. But there it is. Every one down at his home believes at the present moment that we are engaged and that I have come up to London to see our Ambassador.”
“If you are engaged,” Fenn sneered, “why hasn’t he told you more of his secrets?”