She paused. She was, I surmised, deep in reflection.
“Very well,” at last she answered, in a hoarse, unnatural voice. “Now that I have sunk so low I suppose it is impossible to sink further. But recollect that this same influence that I will exert over this, my latest victim, I will one day exert over you. I warn you. One day ere long you will crave pity at my feet.”
“Never from you,” the man said, with a short defiant laugh.
“I have only prophesied once before,” she answered meaningly. “Whether or no that came true you are well aware. In this world of London I am, as yet, unknown, but when the true facts are known this great metropolis will stand aghast in terror. Our positions will then be reversed. You will be the victim, and I triumphant.”
“Proceed,” he laughed. “All this is intensely interesting.”
There was a pause, longer than before.
“Then you declare that I must do this thing?” she asked, in a strange, hollow voice, the voice of one dismayed.
“Yes,” her companion answered; “you must—swiftly and secretly. It is imperative.”
Without further word she rose slowly to her feet, and staggered away down the gravelled path, while her companion, hesitating for a few seconds, rose with a muttered imprecation and strode along after her. A moment later they were out of hearing.
The remainder of their extraordinary conversation was lost to me.