"Yes. Don't get up, Noel, you are too weak." Agnes pressed him back into the seat. "Twenty thousand for himself and five thousand for Chaldea."
"Chaldea! Chaldea! What has she got to do with the matter?"
"She holds the letter," said Agnes with a side-glance. "And being jealous of me, she intends to make me suffer, unless I buy her silence and the letter. Otherwise, according to Mr. Silver, she will show it to the police. I have seven days, more or less, in which to make up my mind. Either I must be blackmailed, or I must face the accusation."
Lambert heard only one word that struck him in this speech. "Why is Chaldea jealous of you?" he demanded angrily.
"I think you can best answer that question, Noel."
"I certainly can, and answer it honestly, too. Who told you about Chaldea?"
"Mr. Silver, for one, as I have just confessed. Clara Greeby for another. She said that the girl was sitting to you for some picture."
"Esmeralda and Quasimodo," replied the artist quickly. "You will find what I have done of the picture in the next room. But this confounded girl chose to fall in love with me, and since then I have declined to see her. I need hardly tell you, Agnes, that I gave her no encouragement."
"No, dear. I never for one moment supposed that you would."
"All the same, and in spite of my very plain speaking, she continues to haunt me, Agnes. I have avoided her on every occasion, but she comes daily to see Mrs. Tribb, and ask questions about my illness."