"You are very clever," he said, with an attempt at sarcasm. "I can go
out and buy another. No, I can't"--he laughed rather quaveringly--"I
haven't the coin. Put that revolver down, young lady, and leave me
alone."
"I shall do nothing of the kind," said Celia, her eyes bright, her lips
drawn straight. "I mean, that I am going to take the revolver. And I am
not sure that I ought to leave you alone. If I do, will you promise
me----"
"That I won't try to kill myself in some other way? I will promise
you nothing of the sort; you don't know what you are asking. But, as I
said before, I don't want to detain you. In fact, if you knew--what I
am----" his voice faltered for a moment--"you would clear out without
any urging on my part."
There was a pause, then: "What are you?" asked Celia, in a low voice.
"I am a forger," he replied, after another pause.
The colour left Celia's face, her lips quivered for a moment, but her
eyes did not turn from him; and his eyes, after an attempt on his part
to keep them steady, drooped before her intent gaze.
There was a silence which could be felt; then Celia said, very slowly,
very quietly: "I don't believe you."