“You guess aright,” I answered, remembering that as far as I was aware she knew nothing of the existence of Edith Austin.
A dark look crossed her features.
“Then if that woman knew the contents of the letter she had a motive of jealousy,” argued the Princess.
“She may have had. At any rate I have suspicion that, acting under Wolf’s instructions, she abstracted the letter and handed it to him without previous knowledge of what it contained.”
“No, I scarcely think that. Wolf would tell her that I loved you and was her rival in your affections, in order to incense her against me. What is her name?”
I kept silence for a moment, reflecting upon the wisdom of telling her the truth at that juncture. At last I resolved that, as our interests were mutual, there should be no secrets between us.
“She is English, and her name is Austin—Edith Austin.”
“Edith Austin!” she cried in dismay. “And you love her?—you love that woman?”
“Why do you speak of her in that manner?” I demanded.
“Austin—Austin?” she repeated. “It is certainly not the first time I have heard that name. Certainly her reputation is not above suspicion. And you actually love her, Gerald?” she added in a blank tone of reproach. “Is it really possible that you love her?”