“Then you still deny all knowledge of the affair?” he said in his deep earnest voice. “You still dare to stand there and tell me that you are not the woman who assisted Marie Lejeune—the woman for whom the police still hold a warrant, but who do not seem to recognise a common criminal in the person of the Countess of Stanchester. Think for a moment what a word from me to the police might mean to you,” he added in a threatening tone.
“And think also, Mr Smeeton—or whatever you choose to call yourself—that I also possess knowledge of a fact which, if known to Scotland Yard, would prevent you in future from pushing your unwelcome presence into a house where you were not wanted. Do you understand?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Well, as you’ve spoken so plainly,” she said in an angry tone, “I will also tell you what I mean to do. You are here bent upon mischief; you intend to carry out the threat you made long ago. Good! From the very start I openly defy you,” and she snapped her slim white fingers in his face. “Tell my husband any lie you like! Do your worst to injure my reputation, but recollect that from to-night, instead of being friends, we are enemies, and I shall tell the police something which will be to them of enormous interest. You wish to quarrel with me, therefore let it be so. My husband shall know of your insults at once, and that will allow you an opening to denounce me as one of the worst women in England. The result will be interesting—as you will see. One of us will suffer—but depend upon it it will not be myself,” she laughed defiantly.
“I have no wish to quarrel,” he assured her quickly. “I said I had come here to make terms with you and to save Lolita.”
“What do you wish? That I should incriminate myself?” she asked. “Lolita does not concern me in the least, neither do you, for the matter of that. I’ve given you the ultimatum,” she added. “If you wish to pick a quarrel, then my own safety will be assured.”
“You misunderstand me,” he said in a tone more conciliatory than before.
“Yes, I certainly misunderstand your desire to bring upon yourself what must be a very serious disaster by coming here and trying to wring from me certain things which I am determined, for my own good name and reputation, to keep secret. My own opinion of you is that you are a fool, and that if you are wise you’ll make an excuse, and to-morrow morning leave Sibberton.”
“I shall do nothing of the kind,” he responded in quick indignation. “I intend to act as I have told you.”
“Very well, then, that is sufficient. I wish you a very good-night,” she said passing on before the doorway where I stood hidden. “My husband shall know at once how you, a stranger to me, have dared to insult me with your outrageous insinuations and threats.”