The fellow made a movement as though to prevent her leaving the room, but in an instant my hand was heavily upon his shoulder, and by my face he saw that I was strong and determined.
“You’ll repent this!” he hissed threateningly, with an imprecation, between his teeth. “I know what you are searching for—but,” he laughed, “you’ll never obtain that secret which gave Blair his millions. You think you’ve a clue to it, but before long you’ll discover your mistake.”
“In what?”
“In not uniting with me, instead of insulting me.”
“I have no necessity for the assistance of any man who would kill a helpless woman,” I responded. “Recollect that in this affair you hold aloof from her, or, by Gad! without further ado, I’ll seek the aid of the police, when your past history will prove rather unwelcome evidence of character.”
“Do what you like,” he laughed again defiantly. “By giving me over to the police you’ll only be doing her the worst turn possible. If you doubt me, you’d better ask her. Be careful how you act before you make a fool of yourself and a victim of her.” And with this harsh, hollow sneer he threw himself into the armchair and placed his feet on the fender in an attitude of carelessness and calmly lit a cheap, rank cigar.
“There will be only one sufferer, never fear,” I said meaningly. “And that will be yourself.”
“All right,” he said, “we shall see.”
Then turning I left the room, and meeting Mabel, who stood ready dressed in the hall, whispering a hurried adieu to Bessie Wood, her old schoolfellow, I hurried her out, put her into the station fly, and drove with her back to Chipping Norton.
Even then, however, I could not understand the exact position of that young ruffian, Herbert Hales, or the true meaning of his final ominous words of open defiance.