“Victor? Who is Victor?”
“Bérard—the man who attempted to take your life. But I was about to tell you how it was that I became complicated in the affair. The truth is, they compelled me. The Frenchwoman holds a certain power over me which causes me to be absolutely ruled by her caprices. In her hands I am helpless, for she can order me to perform any menial service, any crime, being fully aware that I could not—that I dare not—disobey her.”
He spoke with heartfelt bitterness, as if the whole of the transactions were repugnant to him.
“And you—a clergyman!” Dolly incredulously observed.
“Yes. Unfortunately, our evil deeds pursue us. At times, when we least anticipate, the closed pages of one’s life are reopened and revealed in all their hideousness.”
“Yours is a bitter past, then?” she said in a tone of reproach. “Ah! now I understand. You are bound to mademoiselle with the same bond of guilt as Jack Egerton?”
“Who—who told you it was guilt?” he stammered.
“You and Mr Egerton are bound to Valérie Dedieu by a secret,” she said.
An astounding thought had just crossed her mind. The Christian name Victor occurred frequently in the report in the Gaulois, which she had had translated, and which she had since treasured carefully, determined to use it as a final and unimpeachable document to bring Nemesis upon her enemy when occasion offered.
“I understand. Much is now plain to me,” she continued in a firm, harsh voice. “Yet you have not answered my first question. Mademoiselle’s husband left England some months ago, and has not since been heard of. Tell me, where is he?”