It was the only word which the girl uttered, but its tone showed her horror and indignation.
The green-shaded light was, she saw, switched on at the writing-table, and as she entered, there before her, seated in her father’s chair, was the man who had posed as Frank’s friend, “Captain Wetherton!”
As she had slowly opened the door he had raised his head, pale and startled. But only for a second. When he recognised who it was, he rose and, bowing, smiled with perfect sangfroid.
He had entered the house with the false latch-key which he had had made from the wax impression he had taken of the key which Gwen had carried on that night of the false assignation. His only fear had been, however, a meeting with the girl Laura.
Now that he saw that it was not she, he only smiled triumphantly.
“Yes,” he said simply. “It’s me! Are you very surprised?”
Instantly she recognised that, upon the blotting-pad, was lying open the precious document which she herself had typed. He had opened the drawer, abstracted it, and read it.
He, her enemy, knew their secret!
“By what right, pray, are you here, sir?” she demanded, advancing into the room boldly, and facing him.
“I have no right. I’m here just by my own will,” was his quick, defiant response.