“Very well,” he said, “you may keep it. I shall take my chance.”
“It would be the same,” she said, hoarsely, “if you said I was your mistress only. Goldberg is an executor under my father’s will. He hates me—you know why. The clause in the will would put him on the scent. He would go to Somerset House and discover it all....”
“If I am arrested and brought before the magistrate, can you expect Anna to be equally reticent?”
“Anna is an Oriental. Besides, she starts for Smyrna to-morrow morning.”
“In the face of what I have just told you, will you let her go?” he asked, sternly.
“Oh, God!” she cried, leaping to her feet with sudden wild passion. “Don’t torture me any more. You have caused enough misery in my life. Why should I sacrifice my heart’s blood for you—on the first fanciful alarm of danger! Have you ever made one sacrifice for me? Even when you said you loved me, did you give up one hour’s philandering with that other woman? You looked upon me at first as a toy to your hand—you told me so in this very room—to gratify your passions. You married me for my money. You condemned me to that life of scheming and falsehood. You were afraid to face my father like a man. You ruined my life—and now that I am about to build it up again—you come—I don’t believe it—it is another lie—for some purpose of your own.” Hugh looked steadily at her for some moments, and, without condescending to reply, turned on his heel and stalked towards the door. His hand was on the knob, when she rushed forward, caught him by the coat sleeve, and fell at his feet.
“Forgive me, Hugh. Forgive me—I did not know what I was saying—all this is driving me mad—forgive me—pity me—you once loved me Hugh—I can’t lose my money—keep our secret for God’s sake.”
She sobbed out her incoherent and imploring words in hoarse, frightened tones. A wave of supreme scorn swept through him. Even an hour ago this craven agony of fear and avarice would have been inconceivable. But he raised her gently to her feet, and drew her a short way from the door. She stood trembling and shrinking before him.
“I have already told you, Minna,” he said, in a low voice, “you can keep your money, if you value it more than my life.”
In another moment he was gone. Minna staggered to a couch and lay there, her hands clutching at the loosened coils of her dark hair, in death grapple with the devils that had taken possession of her.