Her features were pale and set—a haggard face almost statuesque.
“Pardon me, madam,” I replied warmly; “I decline to accept gold as a bribe to conceal the murder of my friend.”
“You misunderstand me. I have no intention of offering you money.”
“Then what request have you to make, pray?” I asked, looking fixedly at her.
“You know the original of that photograph behind you?” she exclaimed in a harsh, strained voice, pointing at it.
“I do.”
“It has come to my knowledge that you love her.”
I nodded, but did not speak.
“Then the object of my visit is to make a compact with you. It is this: If you will marry Wanda within three months from to-day she shall have a dowry of twenty thousand pounds.”