Part 23 (1/2)
”I flatly denied ever having met him before. It took him back completely. He wasn't prepared for it,” she laughed.
”And you were able, I hope, to sustain the fiction until the end?” I asked, looking straight at her.
”Well,” she answered, rather uneasily, ”I managed to so confound him that I don't think he'll carry out what was his intention. As a matter of fact, I fancy he'll curtail his visit. George has taken him to shoot over at Islip.” She made no explanation of his urgent appeal to her to save Lolita, of his threats or of her own declaration that if they were to be enemies then she would bring upon him an overwhelming disaster.
She was keeping the truth to herself, suspecting my love for Lolita.
”He threatened you, of course?” I said, leaning upon the grey old weather-worn sundial and looking at her as though I were waiting for her explanation.
”Threats?” she laughed. ”Oh! yes. He was full of them. But you were quite right; my denial utterly upset all his bl.u.s.ter. He can't make out my intentions, and therefore will hesitate to do me harm, for he doesn't know the extent of my knowledge. Really, Mr Woodhouse, you very cleverly foresaw the whole affair. I admit that I was very hard pressed for a few moments. But now--” and she paused.
”And now?” I asked.
”Well, I've met him with his own weapons. He won't dare to speak, because at heart he's afraid of me.”
”Then you think he'll leave very soon?”
”Ah! I don't know. He's playing a very clever game, as he always does.
Think how he has come here as George's friend, and at the same time as my bitterest enemy! His audacity is surely unequalled!”
”But is he really your enemy?” I queried, fixing her with my gaze.
”Are you not his?”
She looked at me somewhat puzzled. I had put a meaning note into my voice, yet I did not intend that she should be aware that I knew the truth of her secret hatred of my love, or that I had ascertained that the name of the young man who had fallen the victim of an a.s.sa.s.sin's hand was Hugh Wingfield.
”Perhaps I am his enemy,” she laughed lightly. ”I have surely need to be.”
”Why?”
”With a man of his stamp one must act with firmness and disregard all scruples. He will ruin me if he can. But I don't intend that he shall.
Before he does that I'll give information against him myself-- information that will be a revelation to certain persons in this house.”
I thought of the peril of my love.
”Information I take it, that would mean ruin to a certain person--a woman!” and I held her steadily with my eyes.
Her mouth opened slightly, and I saw that she suspected that I had gained some knowledge which she believed was his alone.
”A woman,” she repeated. ”Whom do you mean?”
”Lolita,” I replied in a low hard voice.
”Lolita?” she gasped. ”Who told you that--I mean, what makes you suggest such a thing?”
”My conclusions are formed upon certain facts already known to me, Lady Stanchester,” I answered coldly. ”You deceived me when you sought my aid by declaring your desire to show your affection for your husband.
You had a deeper and more desperate game to play--and poor Lolita is to be the victim.”
”You love her, I suppose?” she snapped. ”You needn't deny it. I've seen it long ago--you, her brother's secretary!” she sneered. ”Why, the thing's absurd?”
”There is a wide gulf in our social positions, I admit, Lady Stanchester,” was my quick angry response. ”But surely it is not so strange nor so absurd that I should love a woman who is friendless, and who has so strangely incurred your hatred!”
”Incurred my hatred? What foolishness are you talking now?” she asked with that cold hauteur which she could a.s.sume to inferiors when she willed.