"I'll see you and your lady client in—— first!" answered the termagant. "I wonder at your cheek in coming to ask a lady to give herself away like that. You just make yourself scarce, Mr. Faunce," looking at his card. "I haven't another word to say to you."
"Oh yes, you have, Mrs. Randall. You have got to ask me what recompense I am prepared to offer you for your assistance in this little matter."
"I don't believe a word of your story; and I want to see you outside that door."
"Come, come, madam. Is it reasonable to be so touchy with a man who comes to propose a very profitable transaction?"
"What do you mean by profitable?"
"I mean that in the event of the libel suit coming off, and your going into the witness-box and swearing that you were with Rannock from the beginning to the end of that little tour, I am prepared to pay you a hundred pounds. A hundred pounds for one morning's work. Not so bad, eh?"
Her colour had come back, and, after a long scrutiny of Faunce's amiable countenance, she seemed reassured.
"Sit down," she said, and seated herself opposite him, with her elbows on the table and her chin in her hands.
He noted the wedding-ring, and two or three trumpery turquoise and garnet rings on her left hand. Her day of splendour was past, and the spoils of her youth had vanished.
"A hundred ain't much, if your client is a rich woman," she said. "Of course, I can guess who she is—Lady Perivale. I've been told I'm like her. If it's her, she can afford to pay two hundred quid as easy as one. And I ain't going to stand up in court and tell my life and adventures for a lower figure."