"The one mentioned at the adjourned inquest at Kensington," I replied. "The one in which you offer to sell the life of the woman I love!"
"So you know she is guilty—eh?" the woman asked. "She has confessed it to you—has she not?"
"No. She is innocent," I cried. "I will never believe in her guilt until it is proved."
"Then it will not be long, Mr. Royle, before you will have quite sufficient proof," she replied with a triumphant smile upon her lips.
"You are prepared to sell those proofs, I understand," I said, suddenly assuming an air of extreme gravity. "Now, I'm a business man. If you wish to dispose of this information, why not sell it to me?"
She laughed in my face.
"No, not to you, my dear sir. My business is with the police, not with the girl's lover," was her quick response.
"But the price," I said. "I will outbid the police if necessary."
"No doubt you would be only too glad of the chance of saving the girl who has so cleverly deceived you. But, without offence, Mr. Royle, I certainly think you are a fool to act as you are now acting," she added. "A foul crime of jealousy has been committed, and the assassin must pay the penalty of her crime."
"And you allege jealousy as the motive?" I gasped.