He turned in astonishment and saw that she had taken his measure. Realizing that he could no longer count on the advantage of terrifying her, he acknowledged the turn by abandoning his magisterial attitude, and discarding his glasses.
"Sheila," he said genially, "I don't intend to do anything of the kind."
She frowned, laughed, rose, rearranged her skirts and, with a return of coquetry, asked maliciously:
"Will you please tell me how my extraordinary friend came to employ you?"
He did not like it that she should have read him so easily, but this pique yielding to the humor of the question, he said with a grin:
"I guess Fargus thinks all lawyers a set of scoundrels. Anyhow he picked me at random, thinking he would stand as good a chance that way as any other. To which I'll add, since perfect confidence is necessary between us, he was wrong in his theory and unlucky in its application. However, his misfortune is our gain."
At the word "our," calmly spoken, Sheila turned anxiously.
"You have some plan then?" she said abruptly. "And what do you expect out of it?"
"One moment," Bofinger said with a deprecating smile; "before we discuss such vulgar details there must be, I repeat, absolute confidence. Miss Vaughn, you have sized up quickly the fact that your future lies solely in my hands. I ain't going to deceive you—my interests depend on you. Let's begin at the start. What's your side of the affair?"
He threw himself back into a listening attitude and looked at her encouragingly. The daylight had begun to weaken. Across the sordid back lots an occasional gas-jet flared upon a room too miserable to be hidden. Before the direct avowal Sheila hesitated, incapable of his brutal frankness, woman-like considering some justifying motive. The lawyer with a cynical smile comprehended the dumb play and waited until she broke out lamely: