“What, has that fellow been talking—surely not?” he exclaimed quickly.
“I only speak from my own knowledge—not from hearsay.”
He took a long draw at his cigar, looking me calmly in the face, as though undecided how to act. At last, after full deliberation, he said, in a much more conciliatory tone—
“Really, Mr Woodhouse, I don’t know, after all, whether either of us will gain anything by being antagonists. We both have our own ends to serve. You love Lady Lolita, and wish to—well—to save her; while I, too, have an object in view—a distinct object. Why cannot we unite in a friendly manner?”
“Against whom?”
“Against those who seek to bring ruin and disgrace upon the woman you love.”
“But you are her enemy,” I said. “How can I join you in this affair?”
“Ah, there you are quite mistaken. She, too, is mistaken. True, I was once her enemy, but circumstances have changed, and I am now her friend.”
“Is your friendship so prone then to being influenced by every adverse wind that blows?” I asked, by no means convinced of the genuineness of his proposals.
“Of course you hesitate,” he remarked. “And perhaps that is only natural. Let us, however, call Lady Lolita into consultation.”