“Yes,” she replied. “Give me that envelope at once, and let us end this conversation. It is painful tome to speak like this to one who once offered to make me his wife.”
His Excellency frowned, meditating deeply. He saw that La Funaro had entrapped him so cleverly that there was no loophole for escape. She was remorseless and unrelenting as far as political affairs went, and he knew that if he had decided to hand the draft to the authorities, the result must prove utterly disastrous. Not only would he be ruined, but his party who sought office would be held up to public opprobrium and hopelessly wrecked.
“That paper is a purely private one,” he said. “I cannot allow you to take it, Gemma.”
“You prefer exposure, then?” she inquired, slightly inclining her head. “The Ministry of Justice are exceedingly anxious to recover that cheque, I assure you. Probably they will compel you to disgorge the substantial sum you received from the national funds when you endorsed the draft.”
He paused again, his eyes fixed upon the carpet.
“I’m not anxious for any revelations,” he answered in a sudden tone of confidence. “But your price is too high. The document which you so nearly secured is to me worth double that which you offer.”
“Very well,” she said, shrugging her shoulders impatiently. “If that’s your decision, I am content.” He was silent. His head was bent upon his breast, h’s arms were folded.
“Let me see this cheque of yours,” he exclaimed at last in a dry, dubious tone.
She unbuttoned the breast of her dress, tore away the switches of the lining, and took out a small envelope, from which she drew a large, green-coloured draft. Then, turning it over, she exhibited his own angular signature upon its back. Afterwards, she replaced it in its envelope, and then said—
“Shall we make the exchange? Or are you still prepared to face exposure? It will not be pleasant for poor Carmenilla if her father is sent to prison for embezzlement.”