“I intend to prevent Mary Morini making this sacrifice,” was his quiet, determined reply.
“You love her yourself! Friends of mine have watched you in Rome. Although I was absent, I knew quite well that you were in her father’s service; but believe me, I was in no manner anxious, first because of your menial position—a mere secretary—and secondly, because of the past.”
“The past!” cried Macbean. “The past! Surely you ought not to speak of the past—you, to whom the family of Morini, the father of the innocent woman you have schemed to marry, owes the peril in which he now exists. You shall never marry her!” he added angrily. “Never!”
There was a brief silence, then Dubard responded with a defiant laugh.
“You cannot prevent it, my friend.”
“But I will.”
“And expose yourself?”
“I shall at least expose a man who has marked down a pure and innocent woman as his victim.”
Dubard laughed again, saying—
“Of course. You’ve fallen in love with her, and are jealous that she should become my wife!”