An ugly sneer disfigured his face.
“Business before pleasure,” he returned, coarsely; “and my errand with you admits of no delay. Once more I ask you the question: Are you going to act a submissive part, Miss Violet Arleigh, in that which is before us?”
She turned away. She could not speak.
“Go!” she repeated, sternly, waving her hand in the direction of the door. “I can bear no more of this. Listen! Some one is coming to me now!”
There was a faint rap at the door of the room, and then Leonard Yorke’s voice called softly:
“Violet! Violet! May I come in? Don’t stay there all alone, dear Violet! Open the door and let me come in and comfort you.”
Gilbert Warrington’s lips parted in a cruel smile.
“Yes, to be sure! Let him comfort you while he may, my dear Violet! His days of comforting will soon be at an end. You had better promise me what I ask,” he added, harshly. “If you do not, you will be sorry. Say yes—just the one word yes! Violet—I know that your simple verbal promise will be as good as another person’s guarantee—just say yes, and I will step out of the window yonder and be gone before Mr. Leonard Yorke suspects my presence here. You had better consent, Violet.”
She stood hesitating, trembling, paling. Her whole soul revolted from the bondage into which she would be selling herself by this promise; for well she knew the nature of the man with whom she had to deal—knew that he was unscrupulous and a thorough villain. And must she bind herself to obey him blindly? How did she know to what evil purpose she was pledging herself? He drew nearer, and grasping her arm once more, glared down into her pale, frightened face.
“Promise me! Swear to obey me!” he hissed, bleakly. “I will only require you to follow your mother’s instructions; your mother who was—well, her letter tells you, does it not, that she had a bad, black secret hidden away in her past life, and that I alone shared that secret with her?—did she not write that in the letter that you have just read?”