If a look could have killed Gartney, he would have there and then fallen dead at the feet of the Creole, but suddenly changing her tactics, she flung herself on the sofa in a storm of tears. "How cruel you are, oh, how cruel," she wailed, hiding her face in the cushions. "I am only a woman, you coward--only a woman." "You're a remarkably good actress, my dear Mrs. Veilsturm;" replied Eustace coolly, in no wise moved by her sorrow, "but tears are very weak. Try something else more original." After this scoffing remark he resumed his seat, and waited till her passion should have exhausted itself, which happened very soon, for Mrs. Veilsturm was too sensible a woman to waste her weapons when she found they were useless. Drying her eyes carefully, she sat up again quite cool and composed, which warned Eustace that he must be more on his guard than ever. "Your cousin's a fool," she said viciously. "Do you think it was any pleasure for me to have him running after me? No! I hate and detest him, the persistent bore that he is." "Don't you think you'd better drop these flowers of speech?" replied Eustace leisurely. "They're neither pretty nor necessary. Go on with the main subject." "I'll come to that quick enough," retorted Mrs. Veilsturm sullenly. "You are right about Lady Errington--she did slight me, and in a way no woman can forgive nor forget. I'd hate her if it were only for the fact that she is Gabriel Mostyn's daughter--the traitor--but I hate her twice as much on my own account. I vowed I'd punish her for the insult--and I will too." "By causing a divorce?" "Either that or separating them altogether. And I think I've managed that now." "You can think what you please," said Eustace coolly, "but at all events you've done your worst." "Not yet--not yet." "Oh, yes, you have. Now you are going to write my cousin a letter, saying you don't care about him, or--well, say what you like, but give him to understand you won't see him again." "And then?" she demanded, with a sneer. "And then you'll leave San Remo as soon as you conveniently can." She burst out into a peal of ironical laughter. "Do you actually expect me to do that?" "I do, and I'm certain you'll do it." "I will not." "No?" "No." They looked at one another in silence, she tapping her foot on the ground with a scornful smile, he eyeing her with calm deliberation. "If you don't go to that desk and write what I ask you," he said at length, in a low, clear voice, "I'll tell the world all I know about Lola Trujillo." Her face grew very pale, but she answered defiantly: "Do so! No one can connect her with me." "Ah, so you think, but I have enough proofs to do so." "Do what you like. I defy you." "I don t think it will be wise of you to do so," said Eustace in a low voice of concentrated fury. "You know me, Lola, and I know you, and all the world of South America knows you also." He jumped up, and crossing over to the sofa, bent down and whispered in her ear: