"Of course. You've fallen in love with her, and are jealous that she
should become my wife!"
"I am her friend," he declared. "And I will protect her."
"And allow the charges to be made against her father."
"They will be brought whether you marry her or not--you know that quite
well. I have not been private secretary to Morini without discovering
the insecurity of his official position, and the deadly rivalry and
crafty cunning of Angelo Borselli. Again, answer me one question--why
is Felice Solaro, your friend, condemned as a traitor?"
"He doesn't concern me in the least," was the other's reply.
"But the matter concerns me," Macbean went on. "Recollect how
studiously you have avoided me ever since August, when I recognised you
driving over in that road yonder--when an evil fate threw me again
across your path."
"You appear, then, to believe that I am in fear of you?" he said. "But
let me tell you that I have no such anxiety whatsoever. Try and prevent
my marriage--but recollect it will be at your own peril?"
George knew well at what his enemy had hinted--he knew too well that if
he uttered one word it would bring upon him a deadly peril--that he
would be hurled to ruin and disgrace. Nevertheless, he was determined
to sacrifice himself rather than all that he held most dear should be
snatched away from him by that man whose very existence and position was
an adventure and a fraud.