“Did you hear what I said?” Grace inquired, while the messenger was absent in the dining room.
“I will answer you directly,” said Julian.
The servant appeared again as he spoke, with some lines in pencil written by Lady Janet on the back of Julian’s note. “Thank God, we have revived her. In a few minutes we hope to be able to take her to her room.”
The nearest way to Mercy’s room was through the library. Grace’s immediate removal had now become a necessity which was not to be trifled with. Julian addressed himself to meeting the difficulty the instant he was left alone with Grace.
“Listen to me,” he said. “The cab is waiting, and I have my last words to say to you. You are now (thanks to the consul’s recommendation) in my care. Decide at once whether you will remain under my charge, or whether you will transfer yourself to the charge of the police.”
Grace started. “What do you mean?” she asked, angrily.
“If you wish to remain under my charge,” Julian proceeded, “you will accompany me at once to the cab. In that case I will undertake to give you an opportunity of telling your story to my own lawyer. He will be a fitter person to advise you than I am. Nothing will induce we to believe that the lady whom you have accused has committed, or is capable of committing, such a fraud as you charge her with. You will hear what the lawyer thinks, if you come with me. If you refuse, I shall have no choice but to send into the next room, and tell them that you are still here. The result will be that you will find yourself in charge of the police. Take which course you like: I will give you a minute to decide in. And remember this—if I appear to express myself harshly, it is your conduct which forces me to speak out. I mean kindly toward you; I am advising you honestly for your good.”
He took out his watch to count the minute.
Grace stole one furtive glance at his steady, resolute face. She was perfectly unmoved by the manly consideration for her which Julian’s last words had expressed. All she understood was that he was not a man to be trifled with. Future opportunities would offer themselves of returning secretly to the house. She determined to yield—and deceive him.
“I am ready to go,” she said, rising with dogged submission. “Your turn now,” she muttered to herself, as she turned to the looking-glass to arrange her shawl. “My turn will come.”