Clara rose at this and faced her adversary, speaking with intensity no less than his:
"It discredits your boasted intelligence," she said, "to presume so much as to suggest a compromise to me. There can be no middle course. You do not care that I consider you an unspeakable villain, but you must see that you are bound to do one thing or the other. Bring my lover to me, or—it would be idle boasting to say what the alternative would be, but you know that I should never cease to pursue you. In my own way I should certainly circumvent you some day."
"Yes, you would, I believe that; but, Miss Hilman, I decline to accept your first alternative," and he strode toward the door.
"Stop!" she cried, running forward and getting in his way. "I told you this would be your last opportunity to tell me the whole truth. You haven't told me anything yet that I want to know. I meant what I said. I will not have you come here again."
"Nevertheless, we shall meet again, Miss Hilman."
Poubalov now appeared imperturbable. He had confessed to a certain weakness and defeat; in the presence of excitement and insistence he was easily the master of himself and the situation.
Clara realized quickly that she had lost a point by yielding even momentarily to her emotions, and she strove to recover by assuming once more what Poubalov called her logical position.
"You have said that you love me," she said as calmly as possible; "can you ask me to believe that when you deliberately cause me the most cruel grief? Is that consistent? With all your confessed craft, you have a certain half-respectable consistency, for you confess to me at least, how base you are. Will you, then, love and torture me, too?"
The spy became deathly pale for an instant, and then answered:
"We shall see. I have made my confession, and nothing now shall swerve me from accomplishing my purpose in my own way."