“Because I understand you better; I know you better than your husband.”
Etta turned and glanced at the clock.
“Have you come back from the bear-hunt to tell me this, or to avoid the bears?” she asked.
De Chauxville frowned. A man who has tasted fear does not like a question of his courage.
“I have come to tell you that and other things,” he answered.
He looked at her with his sinister smile and a little upward jerk of the head. He extended his open hand, palm upward, with the fingers slightly crooked.
“I hold you, madame,” he said—“I hold you in my hand. You are my slave, despite your brave title; my thing, my plaything, despite your servants, and your great houses, and your husband! When I have finished telling you all that I have to tell, you will understand. You will perhaps thank me for being merciful.”
Etta laughed defiantly.
“You are afraid of Paul,” she cried. “You are afraid of Karl Steinmetz; you will presently be afraid of me.”
“I think not,” said De Chauxville coolly. The two names just mentioned were certainly not of pleasant import in his ears, but he was not going to let a woman know that. This man had played dangerous cards before now. He was not at all sure of his ground. He did not know what Etta’s position was in regard to Steinmetz. Behind the defiant woman there lurked the broad shadow of the man who never defied; who knew many things, but was ignorant of fear.