The light of battle was in Pamela's eyes. She fought against the significance of the man's ominous words. This was his first blow, then, and directed against her.
"I begin to understand," she said. "Please go on. Let me hear everything."
Van Teyl had turned to the sideboard. He mixed and drank off a whisky and soda. Then he swung around.
"I'll make a clean breast of it in a few words, Pamela," he promised. "I've gambled with Fischer's money, lost it, forged a transfer of his certificates to meet my liabilities, and I am in his power. He could have me hammered and chucked into Sing Sing, if he wanted to. That's all there is about it."
Pamela stood the shock well. She turned to Fischer.
"How much of this are you responsible for?" she asked.
"That," he objected, "is an impotent question. It is not I who had the moulding of your brother's character. It is not I who made him a forger and a weakling."
Van Teyl's arm was upraised. An oath broke from his lips. Pamela seized him firmly and drew him away.
"Be quiet, James," she begged. "Let us hear what Mr. Fischer is going to do about it."
"That depends upon you," was the cold reply.