Nell looked angry and anxious; but she looked him in the face with an expression which daunted him a little.
“She don’t know what I want to say to you,” he went on in a hoarse whisper. “She thinks I want to ask you to marry me, as if I should be such a precious fool! No, what I want to say is, that the chap Hemming is still hanging about; he’s staying at the Bell at Stroan, and he’s offered me a five-pound note if I’ll tell him what I told you, and I’ve refused. There!”
And, fairly overwhelmed by the contemplation of his own greatness of soul, Jem slapped his chest and made his eyes round.
Nell listened, with fear and repulsion struggling in her breast. Should she brave the man, with the knowledge which she knew that he possessed, or should she conquer her own loathing and temporize? Miss Bostal had advised her to brave him; but then, Miss Bostal did not know what she knew. Nell shivered as the man came a step toward her.
“I don’t understand you,” she said at last. “What do you want?”
“I want you to give me a kiss.” The girl started and made a gesture of abhorrence. “Come,” persisted Jem; “it isn’t much, considering, ’specially as I could take one myself if I had a mind.”
And as he spoke, he took another step, threatening to fulfill this menace. But Nell was too quick for him; she was at the other side of the table before the words were well out of his mouth.
“Miss Bostal,” she said, quietly, as if his proposition had been unworthy of remark, “advises me to let you make what use of your information you please. She says no one would believe you.”
“And do you think that?” he asked, with an indescribably cunning leer.
The sudden anxiety which overspread her face at the question showed him his opportunity.