I will act, not threaten."
"Ah," drawled Ruthven, "I may do the same the next time my wife spends
the evening in your apartment."
"You lie," said Selwyn in a voice made low by surprise.
"Oh, no, I don't. Very chivalrous of you--quite proper for you to deny
it like a gentleman--but useless, quite useless. So the less said about
invoking the law, the better for--some people. You'll agree with me, I
dare say. . . . And now, concerning your friend, Gerald Erroll--I have
not the slightest desire to see him play cards. Whether or not he plays
is a matter perfectly indifferent to me, and you had better understand
it. But if you come here demanding that I arrange my guest-lists to suit
you, you are losing time."
Selwyn, almost stunned at Ruthven's knowledge of the episode in his
rooms, had risen as he gave the man the lie direct.
For an instant, now, as he stared at him, there was murder in his eye.
Then the utter hopeless helplessness of his position overwhelmed him, as
Ruthven, with danger written all over him, stood up, his soft smooth
thumbs hooked in the glittering sash of his kimona.
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