"She looks enough like Katrina to be her ghost."
Braine went over to the window and stared up at the stars.
"You have made a good impression on the girl?" with his back still toward her.
"I had her in my arms."
"Olga, my hat is off to you," turning, now that his face was again in repose. "Your very frankness regarding your relationship will pull the wool over their eyes. Of course they'll make inquiries and they'll find out that you haven't lied. It's perfect. Not even that newspaper weasel will see anything wrong. Toward you they will eventually ease up and you can act without their even dreaming your part in the business. We must not be seen in public any more. This butler may know where I stand even though he can not prove it. Now, I'm going to tell you something. Perhaps you've long since guessed it. Katrina was mine till Hargreave—never mind what his name was then—till Hargreave came into the fold. So sure of her was I that I used her as a lure to bring him to us. She fell in love with him, but too late to warn him. I had the satisfaction of seeing him cast her aside, curse her, and leave her. In one thing she fooled us all. I never knew of the child till you told me."
He paused to light a cigarette.
"Hargreave was madly in love with her. He cursed her, but he came back to the house to forgive her, to find that she had been seized by the secret police and entombed in the fortress. I had my revenge. It was I who sent in the information, practically bogus. But in Russia they never question; they act and forget. So he had a daughter!"
He paced the floor, his hands behind his back; the woman watched him, oscillating between love and fear. He came to a halt abruptly and looked down at her.
"Don't worry. You have no rival. I'll leave the daughter to your tender mercies."
"The butler," she said, "has full power of attorney to act for Hargreave while absent, up to the day the girl becomes of legal age."