and, you, if you have
any sense of injury, are the woman who ought to help me to crush that
man."

"Crush him for yourself," she said; "then come back here, and see what
I say to you."

She spoke those words as she had not spoken yet, quickly, fiercely,
vindictively. I had stirred in its lair the serpent-hatred of years,
but only for a moment. Like a lurking reptile it leaped up at me as
she eagerly bent forward towards the place in which I was sitting.
Like a lurking reptile it dropped out of sight again as she instantly
resumed her former position in the chair.

"You won't trust me?" I said.

"No."

"You are afraid?"

"Do I look as if I was?"

"You are afraid of Sir Percival Glyde?"

"Am I?"

Her colour was rising, and her hands were at work again smoothing her
gown. I pressed the point farther and farther home, I went on without
allowing her a moment of delay.

"Sir Percival has a high position in the world," I said; "it would be
no wonder if you were afraid of him. Sir Percival is a powerful man, a
baronet, the possessor of a fine estate, the descendant of a great
family----"

She amazed me beyond expression by suddenly bursting out laughing.

"Yes," she repeated, in tones of the bitterest, steadiest contempt. "A
baronet, the possessor of a fine estate, the descendant of a great
family. Yes, indeed! A great family--especially by the mother's side."

There was no time to reflect on the words that had just escaped her,
there was only time to feel that they were well worth thinking over the
moment I left the house.

"I am not here to dispute with you about family questions," I said. "I
know nothing of Sir Percival's mother----"

"And you know as little of Sir Percival himself," she interposed
sharply.

"I advise you not to be too sure of that," I rejoined. "I know some
things about him, and I suspect many more."

"What do you suspect?"

"I'll tell you what I DON'T suspect. I DON'T suspect him of being
Anne's father."

She started to her feet, and came close up to me with a look of fury.

"How dare you talk to me about Anne's father! How dare you say who was
her father, or who wasn't!" she broke out, her face quivering, her
voice trembling with passion.

"The secret between you and Sir Percival is not THAT secret," I
persisted. "The mystery which darkens Sir Percival's life was not born
with your daughter's birth, and has not died with your daughter's
death."

She drew back a s