The girl placed her hands before her eyes. She swayed, then recoiled as the figure approached step by step. Leaning against the mirrored door, Thelda became suddenly limp. She would have fallen but for two black-gloved hands which caught her arms.
The Shadow threw back his head. The broad-brimmed hat fell to the floor. The collar of the cloak dropped. The girl opened her eyes. She was staring into the face of George Clarendon.
“You tried to betray me,” came Clarendon’s voice.
“No, no,” gasped Thelda.
“Do not lie to me.” There was restrained fury in the man’s words. “You tried to win my love that you might lead me to my doom!”
Thelda’s eyes were pleading as she tried to face her accuser. She was barely able to support herself. The pressure of the hands upon her arms brought marks of livid red. The fascination of the burning eyes seemed to overpower the girl.
“You pretended to love me,” said Clarendon slowly. “Yet your love was only a lure. Look into my eyes that I may know the truth. You sought my love that I might meet destruction. Acknowledge my statement!”
The girl nodded feebly.
“You sought my love,” repeated Clarendon. “Now, know its power!”
The sternness disappeared from the piercing eyes. Instead they began to brighten as though filled with a miraculous light.