“And what connexion have I with all this?” he demanded. “If Beryl Wynd is your wife, what is it to do with me, pray?”
“The marriage was effected by conspiracy,” I answered. “She was your victim—just as I unfortunately was. The penalty for such conspiracy is penal servitude.”
“Well?” he inquired, smiling again. “And I take it that you suspect me of being implicated in the conspiracy? All I can reply is that you are entirely mistaken.”
“I am not mistaken,” I said hotly. “It was yourself who tempted me, holding the banknotes in your hand—”
“And if you consented, as you allege, you became equally implicated in the conspiracy,” he observed, interrupting me.
I had never before looked at the matter in such a light. His words were true. I had sold myself to the conspirators—had become an accessory, and was therefore just as liable to prosecution as they were!
“You attempted to suborn me to commit murder,” I added.
“It’s a lie,” answered the Tempter flatly.
“But I can prove it,” I asserted.
“How?”