"It has been my name ever since I left you in 'Frisco," retorted Mrs. Belswin, fiercely. "You need not insinuate that I have been leading a bad life. I've no doubt my past would bear more looking into than yours."
"You've the same old style, I see," said Silas, insolently, "all gunpowder and dynamite. Well, I guess that now you've got what you came for you'll get."
"As you elegantly phrase it, I'll get," rejoined the lady, letting down her veil. "But let me hear from you next week about the rest of the money, or I'll come and interview your wife."
"Oh, I'll write you straight," answered Silas, with a peculiar smile, as he accompanied her to the door. "Good-bye, Mrs. Pethram--beg pardon, Mrs. Belswin."
"Neither correct, sir," said his visitor, jeeringly. "My Lady Pethram."
Silas closed the door after her, with a smile which faded from his face when he found himself alone.
"Lady Pethram!" he echoed thoughtfully "I reckon then that Pethram got his handle. Well, now I'd better look after that murder case, and then I'll fix that she-devil right along the line."
Having thus made up his mind, he sent for a file of the Daily Telegraph of the previous month, and went steadily to work to read up the Thornstream case, which he had no difficulty in finding. He also discovered the address of a private inquiry office, and at once wrote a letter instructing them to send him a detective. This business being concluded, he lighted a cigar, rubbed his dry, lean hands together and chuckled.
"Two can always play at a game, my lady," he muttered; "but this time I guess you'll stand out."