“You have told them nothing—of course. You’re far too clever for that—eh?” he remarked, standing easily before her with his hands in his pockets. “Besides, what could you say?”
“I could say nothing,” she replied bitterly. “I only know that you lied to me, by posing as Frank’s friend.”
“My dear little girl,” he answered with an arrogant laugh. “I was compelled to tell you a fairy-story, because—well, shall I tell you the truth?—because I was so very anxious for the loan of your latch-key.”
“Then why was I kept there a prisoner? Why did that red-faced blackguard come to me, and threaten me?”
“I had nothing whatever to do with that. I was not there,” he protested.
“You enticed me into the hateful place by saying that Frank was in hiding there,” she replied firmly.
“For the reason I have already explained. I apologise. Can I do more, Miss Griffin?”
“Apologise!” she echoed in a hoarse whisper. “You apologise! I wish for no apology!”
“But you desire your own happiness, and can secure it, providing I am silent,” he said in a low, clear deliberate voice. “Think what it would mean to you if you gave the alarm—the wrecking of your own life, and the arrest of your friend Mullet! But I give you perfect liberty to choose your future course of action. I have no wish to coerce you.”
“You could not, even if you wished!” she declared, yet through her brain surged thoughts of what the loss of Frank would mean to her.