The Substitute Prisoner | Page 2

into a
murderous fury."

"I don't understand." But his pretense of ignorance was too shallow not
to be seen through immediately.
"You understand perfectly," she declared. "Moreover, you recognize
your danger. It is useless to try to deceive me--an understanding
between us might work to our mutual advantage."
He imagined that he perceived the sinister import of her suggestion. An
understanding between them--that could mean only one thing. She had
come to blackmail him.
"What sort of an understanding?" he asked experimentally.
She bent forward, thrusting her head directly underneath the
overhanging lamp, revealing a face not untouched by care and suffering.
He guessed her age at twenty-four, but the set earnestness of her
expression made her seem close to thirty. She still possessed a certain
girlishness, but it was marked and marred by an unpleasant maturity, as
if she had arrived too young at a woman's understanding of the world.
With physical beauty she was amply endowed; nor had it been
hardened and coarsened beyond power to allure. There was no visible
imperfection to detract from its charm; but, gazing on her, Whitmore
felt something lacking, something spiritual, imponderable, yet
immediately detected and missed. And this impression was heightened
when she spoke.
"You are interested in George Collins and so am I," she said, and
paused.
"And you've come to plead for him?" His manner signified that her
errand was useless.
"Plead for him!" she echoed, a faint smile hovering about her lips.
"Why should I plead for him with you? I came to tell you that he
knows--and has bought a pistol."
"So he knows that I have learned of his conduct!" He studied the
woman as if trying to read her inmost thoughts. "Does he suppose that

by sending you with threats he can prevent me from telling--from
telling--her?"
"He didn't send me," she retorted quickly. "I came without his
knowledge. Nor do I care about what you have discovered! The point is
that he has discovered that you have been urging his wife to divorce
him. He accuses you of trying to disrupt his home. He is aware that you
have been in correspondence with his wife and intends to intercept your
next letter."
Whitmore's brow clouded. "Why did you come to tell me this?"
"For purely personal reasons."
"And who are you, madam?"
"I am----" She hesitated, as if afraid to disclose her identity. Then,
overcoming her hesitancy, she said, "I am Julia Strong."
On hearing the name, the outward calm which he had maintained
vanished, leaving him pale, agitated, apprehensive. Presently a
mounting anger succeeded all other emotions, and he rose to his feet.
"What do you mean by coming here at this hour?" he demanded
savagely. "You came here to warn me!--really, you overestimate my
credulity!"
"I did come here to warn you," she persisted.
"And to betray George Collins!" The note of irony in his voice brought
the blood to her cheeks.
"I don't want him to kill you," she said, controlling a clutch in her voice.
"I want you to live. It is necessary--all my hopes and aspirations
demand it."
He was on the point of making a sharp retort, but checked himself
suddenly and regarded her with less aversion. Perhaps she was telling
the truth! If so, the situation in which he found himself was not without

its touch of grim humor. But what motive prompted her to extend the
mantle of protection about him, and simultaneously to betray George
Collins? He pondered the question a full minute. Then the simple
solution, the only tenable one, occurred to him. She was ready to betray
Collins for the same reason that had made her accept his protection.
"Madam," he said, with an eagerness he did not mean to betray,
"knowing who you are, now I can guess at the nature of your hopes and
aspirations. And you did right in coming to me. From what my
detectives have communicated to me, I am led to believe that you are a
woman with a keen appreciation of worldly comfort and luxury. I say
this, without intending the slightest offense. You are aware,
undoubtedly, that I am able to supply you with all you crave for--far in
excess of anything that you can possibly hope to obtain from Collins. If
you will consent to appear at my lawyer's office and make an
affidavit----"
The changed expression on her face made him pause. She had risen and
stood facing him, her eyes blazing resentment, her lips curled in a
disdainful smile.
"I don't care to listen to your offensive utterances," she said, gazing at
him as if to impale him with her glance. "I'm sorry I came.
Good-night."
With an angry movement she donned her rich cloak, wrapping it about
her figure and moving toward the door.