"Yours is indeed an unfortunate family," said Fanks, bluntly, and with less of his usual courtesy. "Your sister driven to her death by that dead scoundrel; your aunt one of the most notorious women in London; your mother paralysed; your lover mixed up in this murder."
Anne lost her temper at this brutal speech, which was just what Fanks wished her to do, and why he had made it. Inherently a gentleman, he would never have thought of taunting the poor girl with the crime and follies of her family had he not desired to get the better of her; but in this instance he desired to make her angry; and took this way--an unworthy way it must be confessed. With a burst of indignation, Anne rose to her feet.
"I always understood that you were a gentleman, Mr. Fanks," she said bitterly, "but I see I am mistaken. If you think to trap me into helping you by insulting my family, you are mistaken. I shall tell you nothing--now."
"Perhaps I may force you to help me," said Fanks, looking very wicked.
"I am afraid not. In what way do you hope to accomplish so impossible a task?"
"Why," said Fanks, keeping his eyes fixed on her face, "by arresting your lover."
"You dare not."
"I dare! I dare anything. Look you here, Miss Colmer, I am growing tired of being in the dark; and rather than remain in it any longer, I shall resort to strong measures. In some way--of which you know--Hersham is mixed up in this crime. If you won't be persuaded to tell, you must be forced to speak out, if only to save Hersham from being tried for the crime. I shall arrest him."
"Do so; and you will only be the loser by so rash an action."
Fanks walked to the door. "Good day, Miss Colmer, I shall do as I say; and the blame will lie at your door."