"Let him go on; we may as well know where we are," she had said in the middle of Scarth's speech. And now she asked him what he proposed, as if she were inquiring the price of a dress, with the civility doubly due to an inferior.
"You have had my proposal," said Scarth. "It's not the kind that one repeats before a third party."
"I may as well ring them up," said Lady Vera, trying to disengage her arm; but Dollar's had closed upon it, and his left hand held hers as in a vise.
"You shan't!" he ground out. "It's all bluff. They have no evidence."
"They are welcome to all I can give them," she answered. "I have always regretted I didn't come forward in the beginning. But there was more excuse than there is now—then there was no question of letting a worse person go for the second time."
But this was not said for the worse person's benefit; for the Vera Moyles it is impossible to speak at the worst person in the world. The point was merely urged as an argument for Dollar's private ear. But the Mostyn Scarths are expert listeners; not a syllable was lost upon the consummate chieftain of that foul family; and he grinned gaily through as much of the open door as he could see from this point.
"So you admit that you administered his coup de grace to the late lamented Sergeant Simpkins?"
But the heavy shaft was not winged by one of Mostyn Scarth's feathered glances. His grinning gaze still sped past them to the landing.
"I have never denied it in my life."
"Hear that, Croucher?" cried Scarth. "'Full confession by Lady Vera Moyle—extry spechul.'"