As she thus spoke, Mrs. Slingsby fixed her eyes in a searching—nay, a piercing manner upon the countenance of her companion, who for a moment quailed and betrayed evident signs of the desperate efforts he was making to conceal his agitation.
"Yes—you may safely say that, if you perceive any utility in so doing," returned Mr. Torrens at length: then, his features suddenly assuming a ferocious expression, he added, "But why proclaim war against me! Do we not know too much of each other to render such a warfare safe or useful to either? Were you not the paramour of Sir Henry Courtenay?—did you yourself not admit ere now that you visited a house of ill-fame with him?—and are you not at this moment with child by him? Woman—woman," muttered Torrens between his teeth, "provoke me not,—or it shall be war indeed—war to the knife!"
"Be reasonable, sir," said Mrs. Slingsby, now assuming a cold and resolute air; "and let us talk as two accomplices ought to converse—and not with menaces and threats."
"Agreed, madam—but be you reasonable also," returned Mr. Torrens.
"Then wherefore keep anything secret from me?" demanded Mrs. Slingsby. "I have read the truth—I have divined it—and your language has just confirmed my impression. But think not that I care for Sir Henry Courtenay, as a loving mistress or wife might care for him. No," she added contemptuously: "any affection which I may ever have experienced towards him, has long since vanished."
"And of what avail would it be to you to know that Sir Henry Courtenay was no more, even for a moment granting that he indeed exists no longer?" asked Torrens.
"I will tell you," replied Mrs. Slingsby in a low and hoarse whisper, while she looked intently and in a manner full of dark meaning into her companion's eyes, as she bent her countenance towards him. "If I were assured that Sir Henry Courtenay was indeed no more, I would become possessed of two thousand pounds by ten o'clock to-morrow morning."
"Ah!" ejaculated Mr. Torrens, his mind instantly conceiving the idea of sharing the produce of whatever plan the lady might adopt to accomplish her purpose—for we have already said that his necessities were still great, and that, unless he shortly obtained funds, he would be as badly off as he was ere he sold the virtue of his daughter.
"Yes," resumed Mrs. Slingsby; "and to show you that I have more confidence in you than you have in me, I will give you a full and complete explanation. Sir Henry Courtenay promised me two thousand pounds as a reward for my connivance in the plan respecting Rosamond."
"Go on—go on," said Mr. Torrens hastily.