The woman was again silent for a few moments.
“Its truth was plainly shown by his suicide,” she remarked at last. “By Jove, my dear Lewin, his death was most fortunate for you—wasn’t it?”
“Yes. We had to play a trump card then—just as we now have to play another against young Sainsbury,” replied the man, his eyes narrowing.
“I must congratulate you both,” said Mrs Kirby. “You’ve played your cards well—if you’re certain that he’ll be convicted.”
“My dear Molly, they can’t help convicting him. The acknowledgment and payment for reports, the request for more information, and the vague references to certain matters in which our friends in Holland are so keenly interested, all are there—addressed to him. Besides, he is known to have been an intimate friend and assistant of the man Jerrold—the man who committed suicide rather than face arrest and trial for treason. No,” Rodwell added confidently; “the whole affair is quite plain, and conviction must most certainly follow.”
“And serve him well right!” added the handsome woman. “Serve him right for being too inquisitive. But,” she added in a rather apprehensive voice, “I suppose there’s no chance of him making any allegations against you—is there?”
“What do I care if he did!” asked the man, with a laugh of defiance. Then, lowering his voice, he added: “First, there is no evidence whatsoever to connect me with any matters of espionage, and secondly, nobody would believe a word he said. The world would never credit that Lewin Rodwell was a spy!”
“No,” she laughed; “you are far too clever and cunning for them all. Really your sang-froid is truly marvellous.”