“Victor has confessed,” said Gabrielle, without answering the question.
“Confessed!” she repeated, betraying increased alarm.
“By your treachery he was sent to penal servitude, but your plan proved rather too ingenious, for, strangely enough, he denounced you to a fellow-convict, who chanced to be your husband!”
Valérie glanced sharply at Hugh, with unwavering gaze.
“Yes,” he said, in a tone of disgust, speaking for the first time. “Your lover told me the horrible story, how—like myself—he had been tricked and wronged by you. I can scarcely believe that I ever loved a woman so vile and despicable, so depraved by sin as yourself.”
“Vile and despicable!” she echoed, in anger. “What have I done that you, too, should turn against me?”
“If you forget,” interposed Gabrielle, “I’ll refresh your memory.”
“I desire to hear none of the vilifying denunciations. Let me get back to my guests.”
“No,” said Egerton, turning the key in the door, and placing it in his pocket. “You don’t leave here yet. We have not finished.”
She turned upon him like an infuriated animal brought to bay.