She raised her eyes to Frank’s, and saw in them a look of blank disappointment. She now fully realised that if she had raised the alarm, the communication of the secret to Challas might perhaps have been prevented. She pointed to the broken bell-push, and explained how before her entry there, the resourceful scoundrel had disarranged it as a precaution.
Diamond paced the room in a frenzy of despair. The little man raised his clenched fists above his head and uttered curses upon his enemies, for he saw that through his fingers at the very moment of success, there had slipped a colossal fortune.
“Frank!” exclaimed the girl, in a low piteous voice, standing before him with bent head, “forgive me. I—I was helpless last night. I am helpless now!”
“Forgive!” echoed her father in furious anger. “How can he ever forgive you—how can I forgive you? You might have been in fear of him at that moment, but upon your own showing, you knew him, is not that so?”
“Yes, father,” she faltered. “I—I did know him.”
“Then you have had dealings with our enemies before!” Frank cried, all his dark suspicions now suddenly aroused by her fears and apprehensions.
“I told them nothing, though they tried to force me to.”
“You knew this man, Jim Jannaway, while I was in Copenhagen,” said Frank, his eyes fixed upon her very seriously. “Come, tell the truth, Gwen.”
She nodded in the affirmative, and unable to utter another word, burst again into tears.
And the three men standing there saw that her tears were tears of shame.