“I am quite ready to believe it, Mr. Harleston.” She lowered her voice. “I have much to tell you—and,” with a quick look at him, “also something to explain.”
“Your explanation is not in the least necessary if it has to do with anything Mrs. Spencer said.”
“Under the circumstances I think I should be frank with you. Mrs. Spencer said just enough to make you suspect me; then she dropped it—and half a lie is always more insidious than the full truth.”
“My dear Mrs. Clephane,” he protested, “I assure you it is not necessary—”
“Not necessary, if one is in the diplomatic profession,” she cut in. “Murder and assassination both of men and of reputation, seem to be a portion of this horrible business, and perfectly well recognized as a legitimate means to effect the end desired. I’m not in it—diplomacy, I mean,—and I’m mighty thankful I’m not. Mrs. Spencer cold as ice, crafty as the devil, beautiful as sin, and hard as adamant, knowing her Paris and London and its scandals—I suppose she must know them in her profession—instantly recognized me and placed me as Robert Clephane’s wife. For I am his wife—or rather his widow. I lied to her because I didn’t intend that she should have the gratification of seeing her play win. She sought to distress and disconcert me, and to raise in your mind a doubt of my motives and my story. It may be legitimate in diplomacy, but it’s dastardly and inhuman. ‘Rumour also had it that he was none too happy in his marriage, and that his Mrs. Clephane was something of the same sort—she was of the type to make men’s hearts flutter.’ You see, I recall her exact words. And what was I to do—”
“Just what you did do. You handled the matter beautifully.”
“Thank you!” she smiled. “Yet she would win in the end—with almost any other man than you. She plays for time; a very little time, possibly. I don’t know. I’m new in this business—and can’t see far before me. Indeed, I can’t see at all; it’s a maze of horrors. If I get out of this mess alive, I’ll promise never to get mixed in another.”
“Why not quit right now, Mrs. Clephane?” Harleston suggested.
“I won’t quit under fire—and with my mission unaccomplished. Moreover, this Spencer gang have ruffled my temper—they have aroused my fighting blood. I never realized I had fighting blood in me until tonight. Mrs. Spencer’s ugly insinuation, topping their attempted abduction of the evening, has done it. I’m angry all through. Don’t I look angry, Mr. Harleston?”
“You’re quite justified in looking so, dear lady; as well as in being so,” Harleston replied. “Only you don’t look it now.”