Did he threaten you, or what?"
"There was nothing definite," she answered, "and yet--he made me
understand."
"Made you understand what?"
"His wishes," she replied, looking up coolly. "He offered me the
papers."
"That damned Chinaman!"
There was a cold light in her eyes which Nigel had met with before and
dreaded.
"You forget yourself, Nigel," she said. "Prince Shan is a great
nobleman."
"The rest? Tell me the rest," he demanded.
"I am here," she reminded him.
"And the papers?"
"I came away without them."
He turned, and, walking to the window, threw it open. The dawn had
become almost silvery, and the leaves of the overhanging trees were
rustling in the faintest of breezes. Presently he came back.
"What exactly are your feelings for this man, Maggie?" he asked.
For the first time he was struck with a certain pathos in her immobile
face. She looked up at him, and there was a gleam almost of fear in her
eyes.
"I don't know, Nigel," she confessed.
He moved restlessly about the room, seemed to notice for the first time
the whisky and soda set out upon the sideboard and the open box of
cigarettes. He helped himself and came back.
"Did you read the papers?" he asked.
She shook her head.
"I had no chance."
"You don't know for certain what they were about?"
"I think I do," she replied. "I believe they contained the text of the
agreement between Immelan and Prince Shan. I believe they would have
shown us exactly what we have to fear.
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