“I certainly do deny them,” he answered firmly. “And what is more, I have never set eyes upon you before to-day.”
“Then you will deny that Lady Fyneshade had a visitor who met her clandestinely—in the shrubbery at Blatherwycke the other night—and that that visitor was yourself? You will deny that you have acted as the Countess’s inquiry agent; that you followed my friend, Captain Bethune, to the Continent, dogged his footsteps through France, Germany and Italy, and made such arrangements that he could be arrested at any moment—”
“What for?” cried Bethune, amazed. “What crime is alleged against me?”
There was silence. Markwick flashed a rapid glance at me.
“None,” I said at last I saw that this man Markwick was too wary to show his hand.
“Then if what you say is true, why should this man act as spy upon me?” demanded Jack fiercely.
“Ask him,” I replied. “From his own lips I heard him report to his employer, Lady Fyneshade, the result of his investigations.”
“Mabel! then she, too, is my enemy,” he exclaimed furiously. “She has endeavoured all along to part me from Dora, but she shall not—by God! she shan’t.”
“And what proof have you?” asked Markwick, addressing me. “What proof have you, pray, that I had been employed—as you so delicately put it—by the Countess?”
“Your own words. I overheard you. It was highly interesting, I assure you,” I answered, smiling as I watched the effect of my words.