He had resumed his seat,
the cigar still projecting at an insolent angle from the corner of
his mouth. In front of him, in the full glare of the electric light,
there stood a tall, slim, dark woman, a veil over her face, a
mantle drawn round her chin. Her breath came quick and fast,
and every inch of the lithe figure was quivering with strong
emotion.
"Well," said Milverton, "you made me lose a good night's
rest, my dear. I hope you'll prove worth it. You couldn't come
any other time -- eh?"
The woman shook her head.
"Well, if you couldn't you couldn't. If the Countess is a hard
mistress, you have your chance to get level with her now. Bless
the girl, what are you shivering about? That's right. Pull yourself
together. Now, let us get down to business." He took a note-
book from the drawer of his desk. "You say that you have five
letters which compromise the Countess d'Albert. You want to
sell them. I want to buy them. So far so good. It only remains to
fix a price. I should want to inspect the letters, of course. If they
are really good specimens -- Great heavens, is it you?"
The woman, without a word, had raised her veil and dropped
the mantle from her chin.
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