'But I am serious,' Engles replied slowly. Then he suddenly leaned forward. It was as though he had pounced on the man. 'That affair yesterday was as much attempted murder, Mayne, as if you had pulled a knife and tried to slit Blair's throat.'
Mayne laughed. The laugh was pitched a shade too high. 'Try and prove that. My God, Engles, if this were England, I'd sue you for slander.'
'If this were England, my boy,' Engles replied, 'you'd be in a condemned cell awaiting execution.'
Mayne suddenly shrugged his shoulders. 'I think you must be mad,' he said and poured himself another drink. The scene might have ended there, for I think Engles would have regarded it as sufficient stoking of the fires for the time being. But then Carla suddenly stepped in. 'Gilbert,' she said, and her voice was silky soft like a panther padding to the kill, 'why did you wish to keel me?'
Mayne took his drink at a gulp and said, 'How should I know? Ask Engles. It's his fairy tale. Maybe he can tell you.'
'Perhaps I don't need to ask him.' The voice was purring, but I felt it was purring with hate. 'Perhaps I know.' The words came like the final crash of a chord.
Mayne was watchful now, his pale eyes cold and slightly narrowed. 'And why should I want to kill you?' he asked smoothly.
'Because I am no longer of use to you and I know too much.' Her voice was raised now. It was angry and bitter. 'You tried first to blackmail Heinrich. And when he would not tell you where it was hidden, you had him arrested. You dirty little informante! You killed my poor Heinrich.'
'Your poor Heinrich! You hated him. And he despised you.'
'That is not true,' she flared. 'He loved me — always.'