“Well, to make a long story short, I’m entangled with a woman, and there’s the devil to pay. Now you’ll pull me through, old man, won’t you?” “No.” “Don’t say that, Peter! You must help me. You’re my only hope. “I do not care to mix myself in such a business,” said Peter, very quietly. “I would rather know nothing about it.” Peter rose. “Don’t desert me,” cried Watts, springing to his feet, and putting his hand on Peter’s shoulder, so as to prevent his progress to the door. “Don’t. She’s going to expose me. Think of the disgrace! My God, Peter, think—” “Take your hand off my shoulder.” “But Peter, think—” “The time to think was before—not now, Watts. I will not concern myself in this.” “But, old man. I can’t face it. It will kill Helen!” Peter had already thrown aside the arm, and had taken a step towards the doorway. He stopped and turned. “She does not know?” “Not a suspicion. And nothing but absolute proof will make her believe it. She worships me. Oh, Peter, save her! Save Leonore—if you won’t save me!” “Can they be saved?” “That’s what I want to know. Here—sit down, please! I’ll tell you all about it.” Peter hesitated a moment, and then sat down. “It began in Paris twelve years ago. Such affairs have a way of beginning in Paris, old man. It’s in the atmosphere. She—” “Stop. I will ask questions. There’s no good going over the whole story.” Peter tried to speak calmly, and to keep his voice and face from showing what he felt. He paused a moment, and then said: “She threatens to expose you. Why?” “Well, after three years I tired of it and tried to end it. Then she used it to blackmail me for ten years, till, in desperation, I came to America, to see if I couldn’t escape her.” “And she followed you?” “Yes. She was always tracking me in Europe, and making my life a hell on earth, and now she’s followed me here.” “If it’s merely a question of money, I don’t see what you want of me.” “She says she doesn’t want money now—but revenge. She’s perfectly furious over my coming off without telling her—always had an awful temper—and—well, you know an infuriated woman is capable of anything. The Spaniard was right who said it was easier to take care of a peck of fleas than one woman, eh, chum?” “So she threatens to tell your wife?” “No. She says she’s going to summon me into court.” “On what grounds?” “That’s the worst part of it. You see, chum, there’s a child, and she says she’s going to apply for a proper support for it. Proper support! Heavens! The money I’ve paid her would support ten children. It’s only temper.” Peter said, “Watts, Watts,” in a sad voice. “Pretty bad, isn’t it? If it wasn’t for the child I could—” Peter interrupted. “Has she any proofs of paternity besides—?” Watts interrupted in turn. “Yes. Confound it! I was fool enough to write letters during my infatuation. Talleyrand was right when he said only fools and women wrote letters.” “How could you?”