“Having dissolved partnership, you won’t be taken into my confidence, my fair cousin.  You have promised to know nothing of my acts, and I’ll see you don’t.”  Then he sprang from his chair and came to her with a hard, determined look upon his face.  “Look here, Di; I’ve gone too far in this game to back out now, I’m going to carry it through if it costs me my life and liberty—­and yours into the bargain!  I love Louise Merrick!  I love her so well that without her the world and its mockeries can go to the devil!  There’s nothing worth living for but Louise—­Louise.  She’s going to be my wife, Diana—­by fair means or foul I swear to make her my wife.”

He had worked himself up to a pitch of excitement surpassing that of Diana.  Now he passed his hand over his forehead, collected himself with a slight shudder, and resumed his seat.

Diana was astonished.  His fierce mood served to subdue her own.  Regarding him curiously for a time she finally asked: 

“You speak as if you were to be allowed to have your own way—­as if all society was not arrayed against you.  Have you counted the cost of your action?  Have you considered the consequences of this crime?”

“I have committed no crime,” he said stubbornly.  “All’s fair in love and war.”

“The courts will refuse to consider that argument, I imagine,” she retorted.  “Moreover, the friends of this kidnaped girl are powerful and active.  They will show you no mercy if you are discovered.”

“If I fail,” answered Mershone, slowly, “I do not care a continental what they do to me, for my life will be a blank without Louise.  But I really see no reason to despair, despite your womanish croakings.  All seems to be going nicely and just as I had anticipated.”

“I am glad that you are satisfied,” Diana returned, with scornful emphasis.  “But understand me, sir; this is none of my affair in any way—­except that I shall surely expose you if a hair of the girl’s head is injured.  You must not come here again.  I shall refuse to see you.  You ought not to have come to-day.”

“Is there anything suspicious in my calling upon my cousin—­as usual?”

“Under such circumstances, yes.  You have not been received at this house of late years, and my father still despises you.  There is another danger you have brought upon me.  My father seemed suspicious this morning, and asked me quite pointedly what I knew of this strange affair.”

“But of course you lied to him.  All right, Diana; perhaps there is nothing to be gained from your alliance, and I’ll let you out of the deal from this moment.  The battle’s mine, after all, and I’ll fight it alone.  But—­I need more money.  You ought to be willing to pay, for so far the developments are all in your favor.”

She brought a handful of notes from her desk.

“This ends our partnership, Charlie,” she said.

“Very well.  A woman makes a poor conspirator, but is invaluable as a banker.”