“Shall I tell you what he would do, Lumley?” she said, leaning towards him. “He would have my letters, and a copy of my evidence, printed in an elegant little volume and distributed amongst my friends. It would come one day like a bomb, and nothing that you or I could do would alter it in the least. Your career and my social position would be ruined. Success brings enemies, you know, Lumley, and I have rather more than my share.”
“Then we are helpless,” he said.
“Unless we can get the letters—or unless he should never return from America,” she answered.
Barrington moved uneasily in his seat. He knew very well that some scheme was already forming in his wife’s brain.
“If there is anything that I can do,” he said in a low tone, “don’t be afraid to tell me.”
“There is one chance,” she answered, “a sort of forlorn hope, but you might try it. He has a secretary, a young man named Aynesworth. If he were on our side—”
“Don’t you think,” Barrington interrupted, “that you would have more chance with him than I?”
She laughed softly.
“You foolish man,” she said, touching his fingers lightly. “I believe you think that I am irresistible!”
“I have seen a good many lions tamed,” he reminded her.