She made no response.
“You will not tell?” he demanded.
“I have nothing to tell,” was her steady answer.
“I might force you to tell—” he snapped at her, but instantly cut himself off.
“Since you won’t tell me,” he said, stepping more squarely before her, “then I’ll tell you. Bradley came here to blackmail you; blackmail is one of Bradley’s big side-lines just now. Hilton was a follow-up man on the same business. If he wasn’t in this particular game before, he got next the other night at the Grantham. He saw you slip off your rings and hide them when Jack’s father was coming to your table. He guessed what that action meant, and it was easy for him to dig up the rest.”
Clifford paused. “I’m right so far, yes?” he demanded.
But she did not speak.
“And I can tell you just what he said,” Clifford continued, “and how he said it—for he’s a most gentle-spoken party. It would cause him very great regret to have to tell Mr. Morton that his son had contracted a secret marriage, and it would cause him even greater regret to have to tell both the Mortons just who Mary Regan has been and just who are the members of her family. The only way he can be saved from inflicting upon himself this regret is for you to come across with a large sum of money. Well, isn’t that about it? Now will you help me out?”
“I can say no more than I have said,” she replied.
“Then I shall have to get him alone,” Clifford said, with grim quiet. “Him and the others.”