“With a man of his stamp one must act with firmness and disregard all scruples. He will ruin me if he can. But I don’t intend that he shall. Before he does that I’ll give information against him myself—information that will be a revelation to certain persons in this house.”
I thought of the peril of my love.
“Information I take it, that would mean ruin to a certain person—a woman!” and I held her steadily with my eyes.
Her mouth opened slightly, and I saw that she suspected that I had gained some knowledge which she believed was his alone.
“A woman,” she repeated. “Whom do you mean?”
“Lolita,” I replied in a low hard voice.
“Lolita?” she gasped. “Who told you that—I mean, what makes you suggest such a thing?”
“My conclusions are formed upon certain facts already known to me, Lady Stanchester,” I answered coldly. “You deceived me when you sought my aid by declaring your desire to show your affection for your husband. You had a deeper and more desperate game to play—and poor Lolita is to be the victim.”
“You love her, I suppose?” she snapped. “You needn’t deny it. I’ve seen it long ago—you, her brother’s secretary!” she sneered. “Why, the thing’s absurd?”
“There is a wide gulf in our social positions, I admit, Lady Stanchester,” was my quick angry response. “But surely it is not so strange nor so absurd that I should love a woman who is friendless, and who has so strangely incurred your hatred!”