"It's your scheme to make him appear so," retorted Jarman; "but I know better, and so do you. Who told you he was here?" "That's my business," she said doggedly. "And a very shady business it is. Do you wish to murder Frank as you murdered your husband?" With a spasm of fury Fan snatched up a knife and flung it at him. It flew over his head. "Don't do that again," said he, "or I'll forget that you are a woman." "The woman you loved," she said again, weeping. Eustace grew tired of thus running in a circle. "Don't you think you'd better try something new, Mrs. Anchor? We have had cajoling, tears, violence, temper--I'm growing weary!" "I also," said Fan, drying her tears, and speaking in a much more business-like manner. "It's not worth while losing one's temper." "Not with me, I assure you." "You're a brute!" she said violently. "Possibly. Did you come to tell me that?" "I came to see Frank, not you. But as he is not here--and I don't think you are clever enough to deceive me--please send him my message." "I don't know where he is, Mrs. Anchor." Jarman used the name because he could see that it annoyed her. "But the message?" "Tell him that if he will promise to marry me I will save his neck. But I must have the promise in writing." "I'll convey the message if I can," said Eustace, without making any comment, "on one condition." "What is that?" asked Mrs. Anchor, turning from the mirror, before which she was adjusting her veil. "You must write a letter to Miss Starth, deploring the death of her brother, and stating that you loved him so much that you wished to marry him." Fan grew crimson, and her eyes sparkled. "I shall not write such a tissue of lies," she said with a stamp. Jarman laughed, but not pleasantly. "You have become wonderfully scrupulous all of a sudden," he sneered. "But you intended to marry either Starth or Denham." "Denham!" she said contemptuously. "I wouldn't marry him if he asked me. Why do you want me to write such a letter?" "For your own sake," responded the big man, coolly. "Miss Starth believes that you are concerned in the death of her brother. Such a letter will convince her that you were well disposed towards him." "Bah! She won't believe it." "She may, or she may not. However, I want it written." Mrs. Anchor sat down, and leaning her cheek on her hand stared musingly at the floor. After a few minutes she looked up. "You're on some game or another," she said calmly, "and for some reason you wish me to join in. Well, I don't mind. The letter shall be sent." "Oh and don't you want to know what the game is?" "Not at all. Whatever you are doing can't concern me. This letter will do no harm, and as I wish the message taken to Frank I am willing to buy it on those terms."