Hunt-Goring continued to laugh, and his laugh was an insult.  “I shall get over that,” he told her.  “I don’t want your forgiveness—­especially as you had yourself alone to thank for that episode.  But come now!  About marrying me.  You’d better give in at once; you’ll have to in the end.  And there are plenty of advantages to outweigh your present disinclination.  For instance, my life is not considered a good one.  As my widow, you would be quite a wealthy woman.  Doesn’t that appeal to you?  And I’ll give you plenty of rope even while I’m alive.  I shan’t interfere with your pleasures.  Come, I shouldn’t make such a bad husband.  I’m quite respectable nowadays.  I should want a little attention of course, but you wouldn’t find me exacting.  You’ll get quite fond of me in time.”

Olga barely repressed a shudder.  “Never!” she said.  “No, never!”

“Never?” said Hunt-Goring.  He stooped a little lower over her, his arm about her shoulders despite her sick disgust.  “Why never?  You’ve sent that doctor chap about his business, haven’t you?”

“He has gone, yes.”  She answered him briefly to hide the intolerable pain at her heart the words called up.

“But you’re still hankering after him; is that it?” sneered Hunt-Goring.  “Well, then, listen to me!  I hold that man’s future in my hands.  I can ruin him utterly or—­I can forbear.  I’m not over-fond of him, as you know.  I should rather like to see him ruined, though it would give me some little trouble to do it.  What say you?  I am the gladiator in the arena.  I shall slay or spare—­at your word alone.”

Again his eyes overwhelmed her, so that she could not meet them.  A great shiver went through her.  She began to pant a little.  “I—­don’t understand,” she said.  “You know nothing—­but gossip.  You—­you can prove nothing.”

“Can I not?” said Hunt-Goring.  “You haven’t a very high opinion of my intelligence, have you?  Colonel Campion—­I believe you know him—­is scarcely the man to sit still when such gossip as that reaches his ears.  As for the proofs, I know how to find them.  The worthy Mrs. Briggs was on the spot, you may remember.  Her evidence would be valuable.  And there are other well-known means which I needn’t go into now.  But I assure you the circumstances themselves, properly handled, are sufficiently suspicious.  You would not care to see your friend Max on his trial for murder, I presume?”

She shivered again, shivered from head to foot.  She did not utter a word.

“No, I thought not,” said Hunt-Goring, after a moment.  “It would be especially painful for you, as your evidence also would be required.  You see the position quite clearly, don’t you?  Come, hadn’t you better give in now—­and save further trouble?”

She was silent still.  Only her breath came fast—­as the breath of one who nears exhaustion.

Hunt-Goring waited a little, watching her white face.  “Come!” he said, “I don’t want to play the villain any longer.  Can’t you give me something better to do?  I always dance to your piping.”