"I have told you so."
"Then all I can say is," I cried, losing my temper at her stony heartlessness, "that your conduct in turning an honest, decent man into a besotted fool, and then disclaiming all knowledge of him, is outrageous. It's damnable. The language hasn't a word to express it!"
She stood with her hand on the cord.
"I shall really have to call the guard," she said, regarding me coolly.
"You are quite free to do so," I answered. "But if you do, I shall have to show your letters, in sheer self-defence. I am not going to spend the day in a police-station."
She let go the cord and sat down again.
"What on earth do you mean?" she asked.
I took a bundle of letters from my pocket and tossed one over to her. She glanced at it quickly, started, as if in great surprise, and handed it back with a smile.
"I did not write that."
I thought I had never seen her equal for unblushing impudence. Her mellow tones made the mockery appear all the more diabolical.