“Andrew Beck?” she repeated in a low, hollow voice, her brows contracting as if mention of his name were unpleasant to her ears. “You were jealous of him once,” she added in a hard, dry tone.
“Yea,” I smiled. “But I am so no longer.”
“Why? I thought from what Ella told me long ago that you had some cause. He certainly was one of her admirers.”
“Yes. But he’s about to be married.”
“Married!” she cried wildly, starting to her feet, her lips moving convulsively. “Andrew Beck?”
I nodded, for a moment surprised; but, suddenly remembering, I took from my pocket-book the newspaper cutting announcing the engagement.
Eagerly her strained eyes read the three formal lines of print, then hastily crushing the piece of paper in her hand she cast it from her with a gesture of anger. Her face was pale and determined, her thin hands, no longer loaded with rings as they once had been, twitched nervously, and I could plainly see the strange convulsion that the unexpected intelligence had caused within her.
“Do you know the—the girl who is to be his wife?” she stammered presently.
“No, we have never met,” I answered. “His marriage does not, however, concern us for the moment. It is of Ella and her strange secret that I seek knowledge. Tell me the truth, Sonia, so that I may be able to place within her hand a weapon wherewith to combat this mysterious enemy she fears.”
There was a long pause. Her breath came and went quickly in hot convulsive gasps. Her hands were so tightly clenched that their nails were driven into the palms; her mouth was firmly set, and in her eyes was a cold, stony stare. The knowledge of Beck’s intended marriage had aroused within her a veritable tumult of passion.