“Well, and what if she did?” I asked. “Was the consultation between your father and his friend of such a secret nature?”
She hesitated a moment, then lifting her eyes to mine, said:—
“I believe it was.”
“You believe,” I echoed. “You must know, if you are prepared to sacrifice Ella to that man!”
“He probably is in possession of some secret of hers,” she remarked slowly.
“And she on her part, it appears, is in possession of some secret of his.”
“And of my father’s.”
“What is it she knows?” I asked. “Come, give me some hint of it,” I urged. “A moment ago you were my friend, prepared to assist poor Ella to escape—yet now you declare that they must marry.”
“Yes,” was her hard response. “I did not know that she had acted the spy in my father’s house—that she was in love with Gordon-Wright and had come to see him while he was under our roof.”
“She’s not in love with him,” I protested. “She denies it. Unfortunately she is his victim.”