“At what is best kept quiet,” he answered, gravely.
His enigmatical words maddened me. I felt that I could spring upon him and strangle him, for I knew instinctively that he was my wife’s enemy—the man of whom she lived in deadly fear. If only I could silence him, she might then relate to me those long-promised facts.
“Then if you decline to prove that there is a concealed scandal, utter no more of your lying allegations,” I blurted forth.
He bowed deeply with mock politeness, and smiled grimly.
“Come,” exclaimed the Earl at last, in a conciliatory tone, advancing towards him and laying his hand upon his shoulder. “Let us get at once to the point. It is useless to quarrel. You decline to reveal to us the nature of your curious friendship with the Grand Duchess—eh?”
“I do,” he answered, firmly.
“Well,” said the tactful old Minister. “First carefully review the situation, and you will, I think, admit that I have been your friend. And how have you shown your gratitude?”
“By concealing from you a truth both hideous and terrible,” he replied, with apparent unconcern.
“But you can, if you will, give us some clue to this remarkable chain of circumstances. I appeal to you on behalf of Deedes, her husband,” the old man said.
“I am well aware of the reason you yourself desire to know the absolute truth, Lord Warnham,” he answered, after a brief pause, “but, unfortunately, I am unable to tell you, because of certain promises having been extracted from me.”