I loosened my grip, and Striver, staggering back, fell into a chair. Then, somewhat unjustly, I turned on Gertrude. "Are you thinking of him?" I demanded in a thick voice, for at the moment I was not master of myself.
"I am thinking of you," she replied, clasping her hands, "who else would I think of? I don't wish to see you hanged for murder."
"You would hang together," gasped the gardener, recovering his breath with a gigantic effort; "with my dying breath I would tell the truth."
"What truth?" I asked fiercely.
Gertrude clung to me. "Don't listen to him; don't listen to him."
"Ah," Striver sneered with pale lips, "she's afraid, you see."
"I am not afraid," cried Gertrude, her eyes flashing, and drawing herself up to her full height. "Cyrus knows everything. I only asked him not to listen because I wish you to go away and rid me of your hateful presence--your hateful presence," she repeated incoherently.
Striver gave a sob. "If you knew how I loved you!"
"Stop!" I had control of my feelings by this time. "It is no use your saying these things, Miss Monk is engaged to me."
"She'll never marry you, never," said the man between his teeth. "I shall denounce her to the police."