I stood aghast at her words.
I strove to induce her to speak more openly, and to tell me why I should not regard Phrida as my friend.
But she only laughed mysteriously, saying:
"Wait, and you will see."
"You make a distinct charge against her, therefore I think you ought to substantiate it," I said in a tone of distinct annoyance.
"Ah! Mr. Royle. Heed my words, I beg of you."
"But, tell me, is Miss Shand the same person as you have denounced as Digby's enemy?" I asked in breathless apprehension. "Surely you will tell me, Mrs. Petre, now that we are friends."
"Ah! but are we friends?" she asked, looking at me strangely beneath the light of the street-lamp in that deserted thoroughfare, where all was silence save the distant hum of the traffic. The dark trees above stood out distinct against the dull red night-glare of London, as the mysterious woman stood before me uttering that query.
"Because we are mutual friends of Sir Digby's. I hope I may call you a friend," I replied, as calmly as I was able.
She paused for a moment in indecision. Then she said: