“I say to you,” Franz began evenly and quietly, “I say to you that your sister is sick, and I insist upon your leaving the room.”
“I have nothing to do with you, Becker, though you did sneak into my place. For a fellow such as you it was a chance not apt to come again.” Franz flushed scarlet, but he managed to speak without perceptible emotion. “Whatever you may wish to tell your sister must be deferred. This is not the time.”
He deliberately pushed Geoff from the room, closing the door after them.
In the hall they confronted each other. Franz was sternly self-possessed. He would exercise all the tolerance at his command, at no matter what cost to his pride.
Within the room they had just quitted, Margaret lay breathless and listening, but when there penetrated to her ears the echo of Geoff's insulting speech, she arose with a dizzy aching head and with trembling fingers began to dress.
The two men were standing at the head of the stairs. Geoff was saying sneeringly: “For a fellow of your stamp you have done well. I can congratulate you even if I can't my sister.”
Franz was silent. He simply looked from underneath straight brows at his tormentor, biting his lips.
“You have done a fine thing for yourself. My sister's money will find more uses than ever. Of course, it was the main attraction.”
Still Franz was silent.
“Why don't you deny the truth of what I say?” Geoff insisted. “Why don't you tell me I lie, you fool?”