Mrs Gabriel laughed insultingly. "And I daresay she was some—"
"If you dare to say another word," growled Pratt, casting a bitter look at her, "I'll give your secret to the world."
"I don't care if you do," retorted Mrs Gabriel; but Leo saw that she quailed. What could she have done to give a man like Pratt—he could not call him father—a power over her?
"You do care," said Pratt, quietly; "but if you don't I'll begin by telling Leo. Here goes. Leo, my son—"
In a moment Mrs Gabriel's defiant attitude became one of supplication. She sprang forward and caught Pratt by the arm. "Don't! don't," she said faintly. "I'll do whatever you wish."
"Will you dare to speak again as you have done?"
"No, no; I know you are the stronger. I could kill you," she muttered, with a flash of her old temper. "But I have to give in—I have to!"
"Well," drawled Pratt, taking a pleasure in bringing her to her knees, a position to which she was quite unaccustomed. "You have persecuted my poor son so that I think he should have something to hold over your head. It would serve you right."
"I don't want to know your wicked secrets," said Leo, very pale, but otherwise calm. "It seems to me that you are an evil couple. And I—Heaven help me!—have a father who is a thief."
"What of that!" said Mrs Gabriel, getting angry again. "You are a thief as well, are you not? The cup—"