"It is not that," I hastened to explain, but finding the words hard to speak. "I think he lied, and yet cannot be sure. He claims to be working under the orders of Philip Henley."
"What! Impossible!"
"So I felt, and consequently hesitated to tell you, but now that I have been compelled to do so, I will explain in full. He said this under the menace of a revolver, a condition which often inspires men to speak the truth. I can scarcely imagine his making up such a story, for he is a dull-witted fellow, and even before he had threatened to test your claims to be Henley's wife."
"You told him, then?"
"Everything, except the original cause of our being here. I determined this morning to fight in the open, under my own name. That is the right way, is it not?"
"Yes, I think so," and she lifted her eyes to mine.
"I like you better for that."
"I think I like myself better also," I said with a laugh. "I confess I did n't care much at first. The whole affair merely represented a lark, an adventure with me. But after what you said the night of our arrival I began to view the thing in a new light, and to despise my part in It. Yet even then I felt bound to carry out my agreement. It was only when you told me your identity, that I felt free to decide otherwise."
"Why should that make such a difference? If I had not been the one, then it would have been some other woman defrauded."
"True, but a mere unknown, a shadow. Besides, I had no reason previously to know that a fraud was contemplated—those rascals told a most plausible story, leaving me to believe I served the real heirs. Now I comprehend their true purpose and—and, well, knowing you it has become personal."