There was a pause as he cleared his throat.
“I am a poor man, Mrs. Revel,” he said at last, with a good deal of significance in his manner.
“As such you will doubtless find it easier to enter the Kingdom of Heaven, or so I have always heard.”
“I cannot afford to let you have these letters for nothing.”
“I think you are under a misapprehension. Those letters are the property of the person who wrote them.”
“That may be the law, madame, but in this country you have a saying ‘Possession is nine points of the law.’ And, in any case, are you prepared to invoke the aid of the law?”
“The law is a severe one for blackmailers,” Virginia reminded him.
“Come, Mrs. Revel, I am not quite a fool. I have read these letters—the letters of a woman to her lover, one and all breathing dread of discovery by her husband. Do you want me to take them to your husband?”
“You have overlooked one possibility. Those letters were written some years ago. Supposing that since then—I have become a widow.”
He shook his head with confidence.
“In that case—if you had nothing to fear—you would not be sitting here making terms with me.”
Virginia smiled.
“What is your price?” she asked in a businesslike manner.
“For one thousand pounds I will hand the whole packet over to you. It is very little that I am asking there; but, you see, I do not like the business.”
“I shouldn’t dream of paying you a thousand pounds,” said Virginia with decision.
“Madame, I never bargain. A thousand pounds, and I will place the letters in your hands.”
Virginia reflected.
“You must give me a little time to think it over. It will not be easy for me to get such a sum together.”
“A few pounds on account perhaps—say fifty—and I will call again.”
Virginia looked up at the clock. It was five minutes past four, and she fancied that she had heard the bell.
“Very well,” she said hurriedly. “Come back tomorrow, but later than this. About six.”
She crossed over to a desk that stood against the wall, unlocked one of the drawers, and took out an untidy handful of notes.
“There is about forty pounds here. That will have to do for you.”
He snatched at it eagerly.
“And now go at once, please,” said Virginia.
He left the room obediently enough. Through the open door, Virginia caught a glimpse of George Lomax in the hall, just being ushered upstairs by Chilvers. As the front door closed, Virginia called to him.
“Come in here, George. Chilvers, bring us tea in here, will you please?”
She flung open both windows, and George Lomax came into the room to find her standing erect with dancing eyes and windblown hair.
“I’ll shut them in a minute, George, but I felt the room ought to be aired. Did you fall over the blackmailer in the hall?”
“The what?”
“Blackmailer, George. B.l.a.c.k.m.a.i.l.e.r.? Blackmailer. One who blackmails.”
“My dear Virginia, you can’t be serious!”
“Oh, but I am, George.”
“But who did he come here to blackmail?”
“Me, George.”
“But, my dear Virginia, what have you been doing?”
“Well, just for once, as it happens, I hadn’t been doing anything. The good gentleman mistook me for someone else.”
“You rang up the police, I suppose?”
“No, I didn’t. I suppose you think I ought to have done so.”
“Well—” George considered weightily. “No, no, perhaps not—perhaps you acted wisely. You might be mixed up in some unpleasant publicity in connection with the case. You might even have had to give evidence—”
“I should have liked that,” said Virginia. “I would love to be summoned, and I should like to see if judges really do make all the rotten jokes you read about. It would be most exciting. I was at Vine Street the other day to see about a diamond brooch I had lost, and there was the most perfectly lovely inspector—the nicest man I ever met.”
George, as was his custom, let all irrelevancies pass.
“But what did you do about this scoundrel?”
“Well, George, I’m afraid I let him do it.”
“Do what?”
“Blackmail me.”
George’s face of horror was so poignant that Virginia had to bite her under lip.
“You mean—do I understand you to mean—that you did not correct the misapprehension under which he was labouring?”
Virginia shook her head, shooting a sideways glance at him.
“Good heavens, Virginia, you must be mad.”
“I suppose it would seem that way to you.”
“But why? In God’s name, why?”
“Several reasons. To begin with he was doing it so beautifully—blackmailing me, I mean—I hate to interrupt an artist when he’s doing his job really well. And then, you see, I’d never been blackmailed—”
“I should hope not, indeed.”
“And I wanted to see what it felt like.”
“I am quite at a loss to comprehend you, Virginia.”
“I knew you wouldn’t understand.”
“You did not give him money, I hope?”
“Just a trifle,” said Virginia apologetically.
“How much?”
“Forty pounds.”
“Virginia!”
“My dear George, it’s only what I pay for an evening dress. It’s just as exciting to buy a new experience as it is to buy a new dress—more so, in fact.”
George Lomax merely shook his head, and Chilvers appearing at that moment with the tea urn, he was saved from having to express his outraged feelings. When tea had been brought in, and Virginia’s deft fingers were manipulating the heavy silver teapot, she spoke again on the subject.
“I had another motive too, George—a brighter and better one. We women are usually supposed to be cats, but at any rate I’d done another woman a good turn this afternoon. This man isn’t likely to go off looking for another Virginia Revel. He thinks he’s found his bird all right. Poor little devil, she was in a blue funk when she wrote that letter. Mr. Blackmailer would have had the easiest job of his life there. Now, though he doesn’t know it, he’s up against a tough proposition. Starting with the great advantage of having led a blameless life, I shall toy with him to his undoing—as they say in books. Guile, George, lots
