“What are you talking about? What do you know against Hammersley?”
A lurid ray shot athwart his darkened mind. He realised the betrayal of his most jealously guarded secret to Huckaby. He shrank back, growing hot and cold through shame.
“Hammersley played me false over some money affairs,” he said, cunningly. “It’s a black business which I will tell you about one of these days.”
“And the woman?” asked Huckaby.
“The woman—she—she married. I am glad to say she’s giving her husband a devil of a time.”
He laughed nervously. Huckaby, with surprising tact, followed on the wrong scent like a puppy.
“You can avenge the poor fellow and yourself at the same time,” said he. “Women are all alike. It’s right that one of them should be made to suffer. You have it in your power to make one of them suffer the tortures of hell.”
“Yes, yes, I’ll do it,” cried Quixtus.
“No time like the present.”
“You’re right,” said Quixtus. “We’ll go to Paris together.”