He stepped over to the fireplace and threw the bits of paper on the glowing coals. They started up in a little flame and were quickly reduced to ashes.
Olga was terrified at the trick Millar had played upon her and at its results. She looked in fear from him to Karl.
"Who is this man?" she asked.
Karl could not answer her. The same question was echoing in his heart.
Who was this man, this personification of evil? Ever there were his insidious wiles to compromise, cajole, trick and betray them. He could not tell. He only knew that he loathed him and that he would drive him out.
"Are you going now?" he demanded, as Millar stood looking at them with his evil smile.
Millar took the question in the most natural way, disregarding the purposely offensive tone in which Karl spoke.
"Yes, I am; I must," he said, half regretfully. "My train leaves in half an hour. Again permit me to beg a thousand pardons. Could I have foreseen the anguish that was to follow my failure to deliver madam's letter, nothing in the world could have——"
Karl interrupted him rudely, determined that he should not beguile them again and that he should not speak of Olga or the letter as a thing of importance.