Terence O'Rourke, Gentleman Adventurer
But the words of the man startled him. They were speaking in German, to which O'Rourke was no stranger. And—
"Frankly, countess," he heard the man's voice, "it is the money that is of moment with me—"
The tone was insolent to an extreme—a triumphant sneer O'Rourke analyzed it. Unconsciously he held his breath when they again approached.
This time it was the woman who was speaking.
"But you have taken everything—everything!" she was saying drearily. "I have nothing left—"
"Five thousand pounds, English—or exposure!" interrupted the man.
They passed and returned.
"I am tired, tired!" cried the woman passionately. "I do not care—"
"Ah, countess; but think of the shame—"
"Don't—ah, don't!" she wailed.
"This," muttered O'Rourke, "begins to smell most damnably like blackmail—and the dirtiest kind, at that! Faith, 'tis hardly honorable, but 'tis meself that will listen—for Senet's sake," he soothed his conscience.
Again they passed.
"That," said the man, in accents of finality, "or marriage!"
"But—but I cannot marry you, Herr Captain!"
"Captain, eh?" said O'Rourke.
"Europe need never know that your husband lives, countess."
The woman stopped, and the man halted with her. O'Rourke could hear the hurried, desperate sound of her breathing. He fancied that he could see her, pale with rage and dread, as she faced the oppressor.
"I will not! I will not!" cried the woman. "You have gone too far,—too far, Herr Captain! I warn you—"
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