“Markworth, you are a villain!”
“Granted,” he said, calmly. “Do you agree?”
“I suppose I must,” she replied. “You are not to interfere with me? and I—”
“Will assist me to the best of your ability. That’s a bargain; I thought you would be reasonable, Clara.”
“But what do you want me to do?” she asked, after a slight pause, fixing her eyes searchingly on his face.
“It is nothing criminal. You will not have to commit yourself in any way. I don’t want you to do anything, in fact; I only want you to keep in the background, and not spoil sport. Will you do it?”
“Agreed,” she answered. “And your grand scheme is—”
“Marriage,” he said, curtly. “Well, it won’t be your first attempt in that way at all events! Of course, there’s a fortune in view, or you would not try that speculation. But who’s the lady—not me, I presume?” she enquired, with another of those short bitter laughs which sounded so strangely from her lips.
“Not exactly!” he sneered; “I don’t think you and I would just suit one another. Listen,” he resumed, quietly, looking towards the door, and drawing closer to her, and sinking his voice as he spoke, “The girl is here—you understand?”
“I confess I do not see your drift,” she said, wishing to draw him on to a full disclosure.