A look of perplexed innocence came over Wickersham's face.
"Yes, you are," he said, in an almost friendly tone. "You are the victim of some hallucination. I give you my word, I do not know even what you are talking about. I should say you were engaged in blackmail--" The expression in his eyes changed like a flash, but something in Keith's eyes, as they met his, caused him to add, "if I did not know that you were a man of character. I, too, am a man of character, Mr. Keith. I want you to know it." Keith's eyes remained calm and cold as steel. Wickersham faltered. "I am a man of means--of large means. I am worth--. My balance in bank this moment is--is more than you will ever be worth. Now I want to ask you why, in the name of Heaven, should I want anything to do with Mrs. Wentworth's money?"
"If you have such a balance in bank," said Keith, "it will simplify my mission, for you will doubtless be glad to return Mr. Wentworth's money that you have had from Mrs. Wentworth. I happen to know that his money will come in very conveniently for Norman just now."
"Oh, you come from Wentworth, do you?" demanded Wickersham.
"No; from Mrs. Wentworth," returned Keith.
"Did she send you?" Wickersham shot at Keith a level glance from under his half-closed lids.
"I offered to come. She knows I am here."
"What proof have I of that?"
"My statement."
"And suppose I do not please to accept your statement?"