Mr. Camwell stood in her path. ‘Blind eyes, if you like,’ he said, ‘but you shall not hear blind language. I forfeit the poor consideration for me that I have treasured; hate me; better hated by you than shun my duty! Your duchess is away at the first dawn this next morning; it has come to that. I speak with full knowledge. Question her.’
Chloe threw a faltering scorn of him into her voice, as much as her heart’s sharp throbs would allow. ‘I question you, sir, how you came to this full knowledge you boast of?’
‘I have it; let that suffice. Nay, I will be particular; his coach is ordered for the time I name to you; her maid is already at a station on the road of the flight.’
‘You have their servants in your pay?’
‘For the mine—the countermine. We must grub dirt to match deceivers. You, madam, have chosen to be delicate to excess, and have thrown it upon me to be gross, and if you please, abominable, in my means of defending you. It is not too late for you to save the lady, nor too late to bring him to the sense of honour.’
‘I cannot think Colonel Poltermore so dishonourable.’
‘Poor Colonel Poltermore! The office he is made to fill is an old one. Are you not ashamed, Chloe?’
‘I have listened too long,’ she replied.
‘Then, if it is your pleasure, depart.’
He made way for her. She passed him. Taking two hurried steps in the gloom of the twilight, she stopped, held at her heart, and painfully turning to him, threw her arms out, and let herself be seized and kissed.