me weak, Mr. Godfrey; but despite his villainy, there was a fascination, a sort of brutal power, about the man, which it was very hard to resist. And then, I believed that Mr. Drysdale had deliberately broken his engagement with me. Otherwise, I should not have given Mr. Tremaine another opportunity to”
She did not attempt to finish the sentence—there was no need that she should. I have often wondered, since, what the end would have been had Fate not interfered—had Tremaine’s plan worked itself out as he intended. Remembering both of them—man and woman—I think she must have yielded in the end; submitted; gone with him out into the world to conquer it…
“There’s no questioning Tremaine’s fascination,” agreed Godfrey, “nor his ability; yet I fancy that in spite of his precautions we’ve got him fast in the net. That is all, I think.”
“One thing more, Mr. Godfrey,” she said; “do you think we’d better tell Mr. Delroy the story?”
“Yes,” answered Godfrey decidedly. “Tell him the whole story. That’s always the best way and the safest. Remember, your lack of frankness has already cost one human life. Your sister has incurred no guilt; she has committed no fault. Her husband will have nothing to forgive.”
“And the public?”
“The public? What has the public to do with it?”
“But I thought—you see—you”
“Oh, you thought I would write it up in the Record? I have no such intention, Miss Croydon—I shall let
