“But I am a woman.”
“You have money, while I’m without a sou. You surely can’t blame me for getting a bit to go on with!” he exclaimed. “Is anybody about?”
“No. Bracondale has not yet returned, and all the servants are in bed.”
“By Jove! This is a pretty house of yours, Jean!” he remarked, gazing around. He had not removed his hat. “You ought to consider yourself deuced lucky. While I’ve been having all my ups and downs, you’ve been living the life of a lady. When I saw you in your car at Havre I couldn’t believe it. But to see you again really did my eyesight good.”
“And benefited your pocket,” she added bitterly.
He grinned. His nonchalant air irritated her. He was just the same as he had been in those days of their poverty, even though he now wore the clothes of a gentleman.
“Well,” he said at last, “I’ve been thinking things over this evening. You can’t expect me, Jean, to accept a lump payment for my silence, can you? If you had a respectable sum which you could hand over so that my wants would, in future, be provided for, it would be different. I——”
“Your wants!” she interrupted in anger. “What are your wants? Money—money—money always! Ah, Ralph! I know you. You brought me to ruin once, and you will do so again. I know it!”
“Not unless you are a fool!” he replied roughly. “You want your letter back—which is only natural. For it you give me your pearls. It is not a gift. I take them. I find the window unlatched, and come in and help myself. To-morrow you will raise a hue and cry—but not before noon, as I shall then be nearing old Uncle Karl, in Amsterdam. Bracondale will be furious, the Süreté will fuss and be busy, and you will be in picturesque tears over your loss. Bracondale will tell you not to worry, and promptly make you another present—perhaps a better one—and then all will be well.”
“But you said you would leave Europe,” she replied anxiously.