"Yes. If I disobeyed any single one of his commands, he would deliver me over at once to the police for a serious affair—a crime, however, of which I swear to you that I am innocent—the crime of murder!"
"He holds threats over you," I said, tossing away my cigarette. "Describe the affair to me."
"It is the crime of the Rue de Royat, two years ago. You no doubt recollect it," she faltered, after some hesitation. "A Russian lady, named Levitsky, was found strangled in her flat and all her jewellery taken."
"And Banfield charges you with the crime?"
"I admit that I was in the apartment when the crime was committed—decoyed there for that purpose—but I am not the culprit."
"But surely you could prove the identity of the assassin?"
"I saw him for an instant. But I had no knowledge of who he was."
"Then why do you fear this American crook? Why not dissociate yourself from him?"
"Because it would mean my betrayal and ruin. I have no means of disproving this dastardly allegation. I am in his power."
"You love him, perhaps?" I remarked, my gaze full upon her.