“Everything, from picking pockets to murder,” he answered. “They stuck at nothing, so long as they secured the huge stakes for which they played. Has she been again weaving for your benefit any more of her tragic romances? She’d make a fortune as a novelist.”
I paused in deep thought.
“Truth to tell,” I said at last, “she has made an allegation against the woman I love.”
“Against Ella Laing?” he exclaimed, a faint shadow of anger crossing his brow. “What has she said? Tell me; perhaps I can suggest a way of dealing with her,” he added quickly. “She’s most unscrupulous; her tongue is tipped with venom.”
“She has given me to understand that Ella is an adventuress, and my most bitter enemy,” I blurted out suddenly.
He flung down his pen in anger, a fierce imprecation in Russian upon his lips. The reason of his sudden annoyance was a mystery, but his quick eyes noticed my amazement, and in on instant he assumed a calm demeanour, saying, in a voice of reproach,—
“So this woman, who has libelled Ella, you are striving to assist, eh? Well, what ground has she for her allegation?”
“She will tell me only on one condition.”
“And what is that?”
“If I induce you to give her a false passport, and promise not to inform the frontier police of her intended departure, she will relate to me the truth,” I said.