“You want proof?”
“I want nothing from you, Angus Anglesea, but your adieus. I should very much like to receive them.”
“Really, Friday, you are very reckless. You are playing with edge tools, if you did but know it. Ah, well! I have only to give you proof of the power that I possess over your daughter Odalite to bring you to your knees, madam.”
With these insolent words, the man drew a portmonnaie from his pocket, opened it, took out a slip cut from an English newspaper and handed it to her.
With a proud, disdainful smile she took it and read:
“Died.
“Suddenly, at Anglewood Manor, on August twenty-fifth, in the forty-ninth year of her age, Lady Mary, eldest daughter of the late and sister of the present Earl of Middlemoor, and wife of Col. the Hon. Angus Anglesea, H.E.I.C.S.”
She returned the slip to the man without a comment.
“Well, madam, what do you think of that?” he inquired.
“I think the poor lady most fortunate in her death, since it freed her from you.”