"And I say that you shall not," he declared.
There was a brief, intense silence. Each seemed to be measuring
the other's strength. Of the two, Catherine was the more
composed. Fenn's face was still white and strained. His lips
were twitching, his manner nervous and jerky. He made a desperate
effort to reestablish ordinary relations.
"Look here, Miss Abbeway," he said, "we don't need to quarrel
about this. That paper I came across has a special interest for
me personally. I want to think about it before I say anything to
a soul in the world."
"You can consult with me," she persisted. "Our aims are the same.
We are here for the same purpose."
"Not altogether," he objected. "I brought you here as my
assistant."
"Did you?"
"Well, have the truth, then!" he exclaimed. "I brought you here
to be alone with you, because I hoped that I might find you a
little kinder."
"I am afraid you have been disappointed, haven't you?" she asked
sweetly.
"I have," he answered, with unpleasant meaning in his tone, "but
we are not out of here yet."
"You cannot frighten me," she assured him. "Of course, you are a
man--of a sort--and I am a woman, but I do not fancy that you
would find, if it came to force, that you would have much of an
advantage. However, we are wandering from the point. I claim an
equal right with you to see anything which you may discover in Mr.
Orden's papers. I might, indeed, if I chose, claim a prior
right."
"Indeed?" he answered, with an ugly scowl on his face.
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