He moved his position and came within the range of her terrified vision. Hurd’s twenty pounds and a little more added to it had done wonders. He wore correct evening clothes, correctly worn. Except for his good looks—the good looks of a devil—he would have attracted notice nowhere. He leaned against the couch, and though his lips curled into a sneer, there was a flame in his eyes, a horrible admiration.
She tried to pray.
“You are overcome,” he murmured softly. “Ah! Why not? Six years since our happiness was snatched from us, chérie! Ah! but it was cruel! You have thought of me, I trust! You have pitied me! Ah! how often I have lain awake at night in my cell, fondly imagining some such reunion—as this.”
She forced herself to speak through lips suddenly pale. What strange words they sounded, frozen things, scarcely audible! Yet the effort hurt her.
“I will give you—the money,” she said. “More, if you will!”
“Ah!” he said reflectively, “the money! I had forgotten that. It was not kind of you to run away and hide, little woman! It was not kind of you to send me nothing when I was in prison! Oh! I suffered, I can tell you! There is a good deal to be made up for! Pet, if you had not reminded me, just now these things seem so little. Dear little wife, you are enchanting. Almost you turn my head.”
He came slowly towards her. She threw up her hands.
“Wait!” she begged, “oh, wait! Listen! I am in your power. I admit it. I will make terms. I will sign anything. What is it that you want? You shall be rich, but you must go away. You must leave me now!”
He looked at her steadily and it seemed to her that his eyes were on fire with evil things.
“Little wife,” he said, with a shade of mockery in his lowered tone. “I cannot do that. Consider how you were snatched from my arms! Consider the cruelty of it. As for the money—bah! I have come to claim my own. Don’t you understand, you bewitching little fool? It is you I want! The money can wait! I cannot!”