“I will do you no injury, Editha Dalton; but I must have that paper; and be quick about it, too,” the man repeated, in low tones.
Give up that precious paper voluntarily—that treasure worth more to her than her whole fortune! Give up all the evidence there was in the world that Earle Wayne was an innocent, injured, and long-suffering man!
Never!
Her whole soul arose at once to arms to do valiant battle for the noble lover and his honor.
She had been fearful and trembling all the way from John Loker’s house to this spot, dreading every step lest she should meet this very foe.
Now that the danger was encountered, and she, a frail, delicate girl, was actually in the power of a desperate villain, and not a person within hearing to help her, she grew suddenly calm, her brain clear, and quick, and keen to think, her nerves steady to act.
“How do you know that I have any paper signed by John Loker?” she quietly demanded.
She knew well enough how, but she asked the question to gain time.
The man laughed a short, scornful laugh; then he said:
“You are a brave little woman, and a good actress;” and there was a note of admiration in his voice as he spoke. “You thought I did not see you glance up at the window back of John Loker’s bed half an hour ago,” he went on, in quick, low tones; “you did not scream nor make any fuss, as most women would have done on seeing a face like mine peering in upon them; you knew it was your only chance to get the evidence that would clear an innocent man from the suspicion of a crime; you showed a plucky spirit, Miss Dalton, to sit there and write so quietly, when you knew Tom Drake’s ugly face was looking down upon you. But did you think I would let you get away with that evidence? Not much—my business is too profitable to be stopped by having my likeness displayed to the world, even though it was taken by a hand as pretty as yours. So make haste and pass it over,” he said, not unkindly, for her dauntless spirit had really inspired him with admiration for her.