‘I mean the wife of Mr. James Forster, of Kensington. Do not assume ignorance. I know the nature of your relations together.’
‘Pardon me, but in your capacity of bully, of bandit, monsieur, you overrate my intelligence. I know the gentleman to whom you allude. I have not the pleasure of knowing his wife.’
‘Read those paragraphs.’
Sutherland drew from his breast pocket, and handed across the table, copies of the ‘Whirligig’ and the ‘Plain Speaker,’ with the passages concerning Madeline marked in pencil. Gavrolles glanced at them, and smiled curiously—then tossed them back across the table.
‘You understand those references?’
‘Completely,’ answered Gavrolles, with a mock bow. He was rapidly regaining his composure, and making ready to strike his strongest blow.
‘Yet you have the assurance to tell me that you are unacquainted with the lady whose name I have mentioned?’ Gavrolles bowed again.
‘Is she not the same with whom I saw you in company over there in France?’
‘And if she is?’
‘If she is, you are a liar on your own showing. You professed not to know her.’