“You wished to see me?” she asked, in a low voice.
“Yes, Miss Croydon,” replied Godfrey, more gently perhaps than he had intended to speak. “This is Mr. Lester,” he added, “who has been engaged to defend Mr. Drysdale.”
She acknowledged the introduction with the faintest of bows.
“I hope Mr. Lester will be successful,” she said, in the coldest of tones. One would have thought her a mere chance acquaintance of my client.
I saw Godfrey looking at her with searching eyes, and his face hardened.
“We mean to be successful,” he said curtly. “You may as well ask us to sit down, Miss Croydon, because our business here will take some time and I am sure it will tire you to stand.”
She raised her eyebrows with a little gesture of astonished disdain.
“Really,” she began; then her eyes met his, burning with meaning. “Oh, very well,” she said faintly, and sank into the chair nearest her.
I felt my cheeks flush with indignation at Godfrey’s manner; surely this woman had enough to bear already! I opened my lips to protest, but he silenced me with a glance.
“Now, Miss Croydon,” he continued, in the same coldly imperative tone, “I intend to speak to you bluntly and directly. We have beaten about the bush too long already. I see that you are not inclined to deal frankly with us—you have not been frank with us from the first—you have sought to blind us, to throw us off the track. Therefore I shall tell you
