"Your jest is ill-timed, sir!"
A low laugh answered her—low and menacing. Somehow the blood ran coldly through her veins at the sound. Shuddering, she was turning away when his hand fell lightly on her arm, staying her steps.
"Let me speak to you a moment in the conservatory, Miss Winans. I come to you from Hetty Wilkins," he said coolly.
She dared not hesitate. Trembling with fear she followed him to a quiet place, where there could not possibly be any listeners. They sat down side by side, and he whispered:
"When Hetty Wilkins came to you for a thousand dollars, I sent her. I hold the secret of your presence in the burning house, and the secret of your cruel abandonment of your sister to a terrible fate."
"It is not true. It was an accident," she muttered hoarsely; then with a searching glance: "Perhaps you are Lindsey Warwick."
"No matter what my name is, I am one who will betray your guilty secret unless you pay my price for keeping it. You have paid Hetty, now you must pay me. I do not believe you will shrink from the price of your safety, for it is only that you will betray into my hands to-morrow the beautiful sister that you hate!"