THE YELLOW DOVE
I couldn’t help it. What was the menace in his tone to you? What is the danger that hangs over you that puts you in his power? It’s my right to know. Tell me, Cyril. Tell me.”
She felt the pressure of the arm around her relax and the sudden rigidity of his whole body as he drew away.
“I think you must have been mistaken in what you say you heard,” he said evenly. “I told you that it was a personal matter—a club matter in which you couldn’t possibly be interested.”
They were speaking formally now, almost as strangers. She felt the indifference in his tone and couldn’t restrain the bitterness that rose in hers.
“One gentleman doesn’t threaten a club-mate with exposure in a club matter unless—unless he has done something discreditable—something dishonorable”
The Honorable Cyril bent his head.
“You have guessed,” he said. “He—he is jealous. He wants to humiliate me.”
She laughed miserably. “Then why did you threaten him?”
“I had to defend myself.”
“You! Dishonorable! I’ll have to have proofs of that. What are the papers you have that he wants? And what is there incriminating in Rizzio’s card-case? You see, I heard everything.”
“What else did you hear?” he asked quickly.
She drew away from him and sank back heavily in her corner.
“Nothing,” she muttered. “Isn’t that enough?”
It seemed to the girl as though her companion’s figure relaxed a little. And he turned toward her gently.
37
