“He calls me a liar for telling you that Mr. Cole knew all,” said she, thrilling me with my own name. “Don't you say anything,” she added, as the young man turned on Santos with a scowl; “you are one as wicked as the other, but there was a time when I thought differently of you: his character I have always known. Of the two evils, I prefer to speak to you.”
Rattray bowed, humbly enough, I thought; but my darling's nostrils only curled the more.
“He calls me a liar,” she continued; “so may you all. Since you have found it out, I admit it freely and without shame; one must be false in the hands of false fiends like all of you. Weakness is nothing to you; helplessness is nothing; you must be met with your own weapons, and so I lied in my sore extremity to gain the one miserable advantage within my reach. He says you found me out by making friends with Mr. Cole. He says that Mr. Cole has been dining with you in this very room, this very night. You still tell the truth sometimes; has that man—that demon—told it for once?”
“It is perfectly true,” said Rattray in a low voice.
“And poor Mr. Cole told you that he knew nothing of your villany?”
“I found out that he knew absolutely nothing—after first thinking otherwise.”
“Suppose he had known? What would you have done?”
Rattray said nothing. Santos shrugged as he lit a fresh cigarette. The captain went on with his supper.
“Ashamed to say!” cried Eva Denison. “So you have some shame left still! Well, I will tell you. You would have murdered him, as you murdered all the rest; you would have killed him in cold blood, as I wish and pray that you would kill me!”
The young fellow faced her, white to the lips. “You have no right to say that, Miss Denison!” he cried. “I may be bad, but, as I am ready to answer for my sins, the crime of murder is not among them.”