For the first time in her life Leona Lalage felt inclined to give up the struggle. Turn whichever way she would fate was ever against her. The shock of these constant surprises was fast breaking down her iron nerves.
She stood there face to face with the last man in the world she desired to see. Her breath came fast as if she had been running far, there was not a trace of colour on her cheeks. Charlton could see the black pupils dilating like those of a cat. The woman had been brought to bay.
If she could only get away! But Charlton stood between her and the door. He would recognize her now as his late wife's companion, but once her disguise was put aside would he recognize the Countess Lalage?
The shock was dying away. After all, what was the accusation? And yet Charlton was looking at her with the eyes of a man who has found out everything. They stood confronting one another for some time in silence. It was Charlton who first spoke. He came a step or two nearer.
"So we have met at last," he said. "Well, murderess?"
"That is a word that does no harm," Leona said. "What have I done?"
"What I have said. You murdered my wife as surely as if you had driven a knife into her breast. She found you out in my absence. And to shield yourself and come between husband and wife you forged an infamous letter. Oh, you well knew the emotional nature you had to deal with, you counted on it. That forgery had the desired effect, and my wife poisoned herself. You would have got that letter back, but I returned unexpectedly. I kept that letter which would have saved my good name, but I preferred to remain silent so that it might go to the world that my wife had found no suicide's grave. I have that letter."
"I don't doubt it," Leona said coolly. Her restless eyes were seeking a way of escape. "But many would say it was no forgery at all. You cannot prove that I had anything to do with it. There, let me pass." She advanced, but Charlton waved her back.
"Not yet," he said. "I am not going to throw this chance away. I came here to see Mr. Isidore, and I elected to wait. It was one of the best hour's work I ever did. When you leave here it will be for a gaol."
Leona smiled scornfully. She had no fear of that.
"On what charge, may I ask?" she demanded.
"On a charge of theft. You robbed my wife and she found you out. One of the servants found you out as well. You had barely time to conceal those jewels and get away. After a time you came back for them. You stole them from their hiding-place."
"Ah, this is serious. How did you know that?"
"Because I saw you--you and your infamous accomplice, Balmayne."
"Then it really was your face in the window!" Leona cried. "There, I have admitted it, though I had not meant to do so. Not that it matters. I could swear that I had denied it all along. If you have witnesses----"
"I had witnesses; I was not in the house alone. There are other people interested in the Spanish woman with the fair hair and mantilla--the woman who was in the Corner House at the time of the murder!"
The scornful smile froze on Leona's face. She had utterly forgotten for the moment that she stood face to face now with two grave perils.
"The name of your witness?" she demanded, hoarsely.
"All in good time," Charlton replied. "Now I have found you once again I can punish you and clear my wife's good name at the same time. I have only to lock the door and summon the police by way of the window. If everything else fails I can have you punished for the theft of those jewels."
"That is if you can find any trace of them."
"I have seen them; I have had them in my hands." Charlton was about to say more, but he checked himself in time. After all, the woman and her accomplice had not stolen the real gems, but the paste imitations. But Lawrence would be in a position to clear that point.
"If I confess," Leona suggested--"if I confess, will you promise----."
"I promise nothing. You are in no position to dictate terms. Sit down and tell me the history of the forgery."
The woman's eyes flashed again. All this was taking time. Balmayne would wonder what had happened to her. From the bottom of her heart she was praying that he might come up and see. Not that there was much real hope of that--physical courage was not one of Louis Balmayne's strong points.
No, if there was a way to safety she would have to find it herself. And there was a long knife under the folds of her dress. If she could only get a chance to use it! After that the fair Spaniard would disappear, never to be seen again. Of her real identity this man could not possibly know.
"I'll tell you," she said. "I procured a letter of yours. I cut out words here and there, and made a long letter of them. Then I had the whole thing photographed. After that my task was easy, it was only a matter of time. Even from a child I always had a gift that way. If you will give me paper and pen I will show you."
Charlton complied. Leona Lalage used the pen, which she expressed herself as very dissatisfied with. She called for another.
Charlton rummaged on a table with his head down. Like a cat Leona sprang forward. Something bright glittered in the air. The man turned just in time to save the steel crashing between his ribs, it glanced off between his shoulders, there was a sharp spasm of pain as he fell. Just for an instant he was unconscious. Then, as suddenly as it had gone, reason came back to him. He heard the trip of feet down the stairs, he heard the rattle and banging of a door. He was bleeding freely, but he managed to drag himself to the window.
"Murder!" he yelled. "Police, arrest that woman; she has tried to kill me!"