“I don’t think that can have been all. You were running”—he regarded her through narrowed lids—“a pretty big risk, and you’re woman of the world enough to know it. You are quite at my mercy, you see. A woman doesn’t run that kind of risk—for another woman.” He leaned across the little table, his compelling blue eyes concentrated on her face. “Do tell me why you did it?”
For a moment she was silent. Then, lifting her eyes to meet his, she said simply:
“I did it because once—years ago—I robbed Eliot Coventry of his happiness. I wanted to give it back to him.”
“And you were prepared to risk your reputation over the job?”—swiftly.
“Yes,” she answered quietly. “I was prepared.”
“Then you must have felt quite convinced he was in danger of losing his happiness—to me?”—with lightning triumph.
“Not to you—through you,” she corrected quietly.
“Ann would have promised to marry me to-night.”
“I’m sure she would not. But it was almost inevitable that Eliot would misunderstand—distrust her, if he learned that she had been here with you—this evening.”
Brett nodded composedly.