“He is a friend of Mr Selby’s?” I ventured.
“I believe so.”
“Do you not, then, admit the truth of my suggestion that, our interests being in common, we should establish friendly relations whereby we may defeat our enemies?” I asked.
“I admit the truth of the argument entirely,” was her response after a few moments’ consideration; “and, although I recognise your kindness in offering to stand my friend, I cannot see how either of us can benefit. I must suffer—till my death.”
“Your death?” I cried reproachfully. “Don’t speak like that. I know how utterly helpless you are, how completely you have fallen into the hands of these mysterious enemies of yours. Yet I would urge you not to despair. Trust in me to assist you in every way in my power, for I assure you of my honesty of purpose. Be frank with me, and tell me everything; then we will form some plan to combat this plot—for plot it seems to be.”
“Be frank with you?” she cried in a tone of dismay, but quickly recovered herself. “With you—of all men?”
“Why not with me?” I asked in great surprise at her manner. “Surely I am not your enemy?”
“If you are not at this moment, you have been in the past.”
“How so?” I asked, amazed.
“You would have brought death upon me if you could,” she cried huskily. “I was only saved by the protection of Providence.”