Marston’s manner was cold, and his voice stern. He spoke with such an air of conscious power that Gurth’s anxiety betrayed itself in the expression of his face.
Marston noticed the effect, and hastened to follow it up.
‘I love Ruth Adrian honestly and devotedly!’ he continued. ‘With her for my wife, I am about to lead a new life—a life which you will not be able to understand, perhaps. If you, by word or deed, attempt to thwart my purpose, woe betide you, Gurth Egerton. You had better try to rob a lion of its whelp than step between me and the fulfilment of my dream.’
Gurth roused himself with an effort. ‘Talk, my dear fellow!’ he exclaimed, banteringly. ‘Mere talk! What could you—an adventurer, a runaway from America, a penniless schemer—say or do that would injure a man of my wealth and position? Come, what do you want? A thousand—two thousand? Name your figure, take a cheque, and disappear. You are good at disappearing, you know.’
Marston had controlled himself with difficulty for some time, but when, in stinging tones of contempt, Gurth offered him money—offered to buy Ruth of him, as it were—his calmness forsook him. With a flushed face and flashing eyes he sprang forward and seized Gurth by the shoulders.
‘You cur!’ he exclaimed, passionately. ‘Do you think to buy me with your dirty money?—your money!—bah, with the money that you have got by fraud—for all I know, by murder!’
It was a shot at random, but it went home.
Gurth, white as a ghost, shook himself free from Marston’s clutch.
‘What do you mean?’ he exclaimed. ‘How dare you say such things?’
‘Look at your white face in the glass,’ cried Marston, with an exulting cry. ‘I’ve unmasked you at last, then. Ah, my fine fellow, I fancy I know the weak spot now. You’ll sweep me out of your path, will you? We’ll see. Now, listen to this, Mr. Gurth Egerton. The first time you cross the Adrians’ threshold you seal your own fate. I’ll risk what will happen, and I’ll risk proving my words, but I’ll publicly denounce you as the murderer of Ralph Egerton!’