"Well, I haven't any of that money, and I've got to have more," retorted Dexter emphatically. "Jennie, I want twenty-five thousand dollars. Give me that, and I'll leave the country for good."
"I—I couldn't trust you," she faltered.
"Don't talk that way to me!"
"I have good reason to, Abner, and you know it."
"You thought I had forgotten you, didn't you?" he sneered harshly.
"I hoped that you had at last made up your mind to let me alone," replied the woman, trying to summon a bravery that she did not feel.
"I haven't forgotten you. Jennie, you will have to find and turn over to me the twenty-five thousand dollars that I want. You will never know any peace until you do do it, and you will never see me again after you have given me the money. Now, aren't you going to be sensible?"
"Yes," she flashed. "I'm going to be too sensible to listen to you any longer. You have been watching this house, and you came to-night because you knew I was alone. If you won't go, at least I shall not stay here to listen to you."
"Oh, yes, you will," replied the man angrily, barring the doorway.
At that instant the telephone bell in a niche in the hallway sounded.