“Why not?”
There was a fight brewing, and he would let the enemy open fire. The glitter in her eyes showed that the batteries were ready to be unmasked. He was not mistaken.
“Why not? Because I believed you to be a gentleman. Once you had stooped to sending your myrmidons to pester me I imagined that you would keep yourself in the background.”
There was an indignant ring in her words as she concluded. When a woman is angry her own speech acts as a trumpet-call and fires her blood. Mrs. Hillmer began, as she intended, in icy disdain. She ended in tremulous anger.
“You allude to Mr. White?” said the barrister, looking steadily at her.
“Yes, that is the man. Some hireling from Scotland Yard. How could you so meanly induce my confidence at our first meeting? I have never been so deceived in a man in my life, and I have had a surfeit of bitter experience already.”
“Brother and sister are alike. They have led queer lives,” mused Bruce. Aloud he said:
“Your experience, Mrs. Hillmer, should at least lead you not to condemn any one unheard. May I explain that which is to you incomprehensible at this moment?—justly so, I admit.”
“Explanations! I am a child in the hands of such as you. How can I hope to fathom your real intent? Presumably, if I accept your apologies now, it will be a prelude to further visits by impudent police officers.”
“I am not here to apologize, Mrs. Hillmer.”