Time after time he tried to induce her to explain further her strange hint as to blackmail, but without avail.
The meal, which proved so dismal and unenjoyable, at last ended and Egisto disappeared for the last time. Both felt relieved.
Then Waldron bent to the Princess Luisa, asking frankly:
“Now tell me what may I do to prove to you my friendship?”
“There is no necessity to prove a fact of which I am already aware,” was her reply after a few seconds’ reflection.
“Truth to tell, Princess,” he remarked, “I cannot quite make you out. Why are you so silent, and yet so distressed? As a man of the world—a freelance—I could, I am sure, extricate you from what I fear may be a pitfall in which you to-night find yourself. You have been indiscreet, perhaps. Yet all of us, in every station of life, have committed regrettable indiscretions.”
“Indiscretions!” she echoed hoarsely. “Yes, you are right, Mr Waldron. Quite right! Ah!” she cried, after a slight pause. “I only wish I were permitted to reveal to you the whole of the strange, tragic circumstances. They would amaze you, I know—but, alas! I can’t.”
“Why not?” he protested.
“For the sake of my own honour,” she faltered, and her eyes, he saw, were filled with tears.
He sprang up and took her small white hand warmly within his own, saying: