“But my mother accompanied them?” he went on.
“They went alone. Mrs. de Vere was not here when we came. She has never returned.”
“And the fraudulent telegram that summoned me to New York?” he said, beginning now to understand the whole diabolical plan.
“I sent it,” Camille answered, lifting her head with a gesture of triumph. “I planned everything. I got you out of the way so that I would have no trouble in getting the girl’s ear. After she heard all I had to tell, she was glad to go. I told her I had come to stay, as I mean to do. I shall never allow you to drive me from Verelands again.”
“I shall leave you in full possession for a short time,” he replied, with so strange and meaning a smile that she trembled in spite of her bravado.
“But he would not dare,” she thought, uneasily.
“If you will tell me now what device you used to lure my mother away from her home that night, I will go in search of her at once and leave you to the enjoyment of your triumph,” he said, icily.
“I got Nance to send for her to come to her death-bed. With all an old woman’s curiosity, she went, and once there she fell sick and had to remain a few days to recuperate,” Camille answered, with heartless mirth.
Her last coup had failed. He despised her as heartily as ever; he would never be lured by her siren wiles again. Her love turned at last to hate. She became reckless.
“I have triumphed over you completely!” she cried out, wildly. “You have forever lost the girl for whose love you deserted me. You will never see her face again. Doubtless she and her nameless brat are at this moment lying at the bottom of the river!”