“Exactly”—with a mocking bow. “You’ve guessed it. ‘The marriage arranged’—would not take place.”
Cara stared at him in frank horror.
“Then it was a trap!” she exclaimed, and beneath the utter scorn and contempt which rang in her voice any other man would have winced. But it affected Brett not one jot.
“Yes. And would have succeeded admirably, but for your interference. Tell me, how did you persuade Ann not to come? It isn’t like her to back out of a bargain.”
“No, it isn’t,” agreed Cara warmly. “Ann would always keep her word—even if the keeping of it half killed her.”
“Then how?”
There was a suspicion of veiled triumph in her smile.
“It was quite simple,” she said. “I sent her a wire, saying, ‘Don’t come to-night’—and signed it ‘Forrester.’”
Brett burst out laughing.
“My felicitations! That was quite a stroke after my own heart! But still, you’ll agree, it was rather a liberty to take with my name, wasn’t it?”