“‘You have nothing to fear,’ I said, quickly. ‘I simply want those papers which will clear Sacha. Have you kept them?’
“My one terror had been that she might have destroyed them, and my heart leaped with joy when she told me she had the papers, but she also said she had no intention of giving them up.
“‘I am not here to haggle with you,’ I answered. ‘What is your price?’
“‘Twenty thousand.’
“‘Roubles?’
“‘No, dollars.’
“Her ruling passion was gambling. It was an inherited vice. She would sell her soul for money to lose over the gaming tables.”
“It ees so,” interrupted de Morny. “I was warning her, Monsieur Blake, when you overheard me. She was my cousin, but yes, and I did not want the name disgraced. I hated and despised her for her treatment of my friend, Sacha; and it was I, Messieurs, who first notified Count de Smirnoff that she was in Washington.” The Frenchman’s eyes sparkled vindictively.
“Hélène leaned back in her car, thinking, thinking,” continued de Smirnoff. “Finally she said, speaking low that the chauffeur should not hear:
“‘Come to my house to-night at one o’clock. I can see you alone then; the others will be at the ball. Knock very softly on the front door.’