"A secretary," suggested Malcolm Sage, without looking up.
"Yes. He ordered me to break off the engagement at once, no matter what it might cost."
"He referred to his pocket rather than to your feelings, I take it?" said Malcolm Sage.
"Yes." There was a world of bitterness in the tone in which the word was uttered. "I refused. Four days ago Sir James came and, I think, talked things over with my uncle, who said he would see Enid, that is, my fiancée. She came yesterday afternoon. My uncle insisted on seeing her alone. She stayed only a few minutes."
His voice broke. He swallowed rapidly several times in succession, struggling to regain control of himself.
"You walked back to the station with her," remarked Malcolm Sage, "and she told you what had taken place. Your uncle had offered to buy her off. You were furious. You said many wild and extravagant things. Then you came back and went immediately into the library. What took place there?"
"I don't remember what I said. I think for the time I was insane. He had actually offered her money, notes. He had drawn them out of the bank on purpose." Again he stopped, as if the memory of the insult were too much for him.
"And you said?" suggested Malcolm Sage, twirling the wineglass slowly between his thumb and finger.
"I probably said what any other man would have said under similar circumstances." There was a quiet dignity about the way in which he uttered these words, although his fingers still continued to twitch.
"Did he threaten you, or you him?"