“You are a madman, or some one has been deceiving you.  You are the victim of a delusion.”

Keith, with his eyes fastened on him, shook his head.

“Oh, no; I am not.”

A look of perplexed innocence came over Wickersham’s face.

“Yes, you are,” he said, in an almost friendly tone.  “You are the victim of some hallucination.  I give you my word, I do not know even what you are talking about.  I should say you were engaged in blackmail—­” The expression in his eyes changed like a flash, but something in Keith’s eyes, as they met his, caused him to add, “if I did not know that you were a man of character.  I, too, am a man of character, Mr. Keith.  I want you to know it.”  Keith’s eyes remained calm and cold as steel.  Wickersham faltered.  “I am a man of means—­of large means.  I am worth—.  My balance in bank this moment is—­is more than you will ever be worth.  Now I want to ask you why, in the name of Heaven, should I want anything to do with Mrs. Wentworth’s money?”

“If you have such a balance in bank,” said Keith, “it will simplify my mission, for you will doubtless be glad to return Mr. Wentworth’s money that you have had from Mrs. Wentworth.  I happen to know that his money will come in very conveniently for Norman just now.”

“Oh, you come from Wentworth, do you?” demanded Wickersham.

“No; from Mrs. Wentworth,” returned Keith.

“Did she send you?” Wickersham shot at Keith a level glance from under his half-closed lids.

“I offered to come.  She knows I am here.”

“What proof have I of that?”

“My statement.”

“And suppose I do not please to accept your statement?”

Keith leant a little toward him over the table.

“You will accept it.”

“He must hold a strong hand,” thought Wickersham.  He shifted his ground suddenly.  “What, in the name of Heaven, are you driving at, Keith?  What are you after?  Come to the point.”

“I will,” said Keith, rising.  “Let us drop our masks; they are not becoming to you, and I am not accustomed to them.  I have come for several things:  one of them is Mrs. Wentworth’s money, which you got from her under false pretences.”  He spoke slowly, and his eyes were looking in the other’s eyes.

Wickersham sprang to his feet.

“What do you mean, sir?” he demanded, with an oath.  “I have already told you—!  I will let no man speak to me in that way.”

Keith did not stir.  Wickersham paused to get his breath.

“You would not dare to speak so if a lady’s name were not involved, and you did not know that I cannot act as I would, for fear of compromising her.”

An expression of contempt swept across Keith’s face.

“Sit down,” he said.  “I will relieve your mind.  Mrs. Wentworth is quite ready to meet any disclosures that may come.  I have her power of attorney.  She has gone to her husband and told him everything.”