So you want to be rid of me!” The Major glanced across his shoulder, at
the same time making no effort to remove himself.
Hindwood crossed the room thoughtfully and seated himself. “I've made no
secret of it from the moment you entered.”
The Major laughed genially. “I don't blame you. You think I'm a wronged
husband trying to get even, or else an unscrupulous detective baiting
traps with falsehoods. The situation's unpleasant--for you, especially.”
“I'm glad you realize it.”
“I assure you I do. You've given yourself away completely.”
“You think so?”
“I don't think; I know. What you've told me proves beyond a doubt that
you're possessed of exactly the knowledge that would bring Santa Gorlof
to trial.”
“You're imaginative.”
“I'm observant. You're wondering what makes me so certain. The
explanation's simple: I've studied Santa's tactics. Her strategy's the
same in every instance. When a man suspects her guilt, she does what she
did to you: seals his mouth with kisses.”
“This is too much.” Hindwood brought his fist down with a bang. “Do you
go or do I have to force you?”
“This time I'll try one of yours.”
With astounding assurance the Major helped himself to one of Hindwood's
cigars, which he had previously rejected. Without bravado he lighted
it and, having ascertained that it was drawing, continued: “If you used
force, you'd regret it. You'd make certain of the unwelcome publicity
you're so anxious to avoid; you'd miss a stranger story than any Arabian
tale that ever was concocted. You think you can still touch bottom; as
a matter of fact you're already out of sight of land. You sit there
looking an average, successful American; actually you've become an
heroic figure, adrift upon an ocean so romantic and uncharted that it
beats upon the cliffs of every human passion.”
Hindwood shifted uneasily. “So you're a fortuneteller in addition to
being an ill-used husband and a detective!”
Ignoring his sarcasm, the Major proceeded: “Some time ago you accused me
of ingenuity in the means I had adopted to recover my bachelorhood. It's
not my bachelorhood, but my own and my country's honor that, with
your help, I'm endeavoring to recover. That sounds extravagant? But
consider--what motive could be sufficiently extravagant to compel a man
to bend all his energies toward bringing the woman whom he loves to the
scaffold? Because I say it calmly, you doubt that I love her. What man
could help loving her? She's the last of a long line of false, fair
women who've stirred up madness and left behind a trail of ruin.”
Rising wearily, Hindwood turned his back and commenced fingering the
documents on his desk. “There'll be nothing gained by carrying this
discussion further.”
With a question the Major recaptured his attention. “Did it ever strike
you that she's partly Asiatic?”
Hindwood swung round, surprised into truth. “What makes you ask it?”