"That is my business," said Lola, who, seeing she had made a slip, became more obstinate than ever. More to show her calmness, she lighted a fresh cigarette and smoked it defiantly.
George shrugged his shoulders. He was not going to argue with her. Remembering that Bawdsey had mentioned her name, and that Bawdsey appeared to know all about himself, he began to put two and two together. Certainly he might be wrong, and Bawdsey might have nothing to do with the matter. Still it was worth while trying to startle Lola into a confession by the use of his name. His rescue of Bawdsey hinted that the long arm of coincidence might be at work. "Well, I don't know where he comes from----" began George.
Lola snapped him up. "Ah, yes, and you think it is a man. Bah! why not a woman, my dear?" she sneered.
"Oh, you may have half-a-dozen at work--male and female both," said George, taking his seat, "but I should have thought that the red man was clever enough to----"
She threw away her cigarette and rose to her feet with such manifest alarm that George knew his guess was correct. "You talk foolish."
George looked at her angry face serenely. "Did Bawdsey when he said you wished me harm?"
"What?" She flung up her hands, with blazing eyes. "Did he say I do wish you harm? Was it--that--that cow--pig----"
"Don't call names, Lola, and don't distress yourself. It was Bawdsey."
Lola saw that she had gone too far, and had, vulgarly speaking, given herself away. She tried to recover lost ground. "I do not know his names," she said sullenly; then burst out, "but I wish you no harm. Eh, will you believe that, my preserver?"
"I'll believe nothing if you will not tell me the truth," said Brendon, a little cruelly. "Come, Lola, admit that you paid Bawdsey to watch me."