Dennis Wheatley - The Shadow of Tyburn Tree

"I'll not believe that you are seriously troubled by such squeamishness," he smiled. "A woman of your metal must know that love tastes at its best when 'tis salted with death. For myself, were any added incentive needed, the thought of the part you played this morning would provide it."

She shrank away from him, exclaiming: "Nay! Nay! I will lie with no man to-night."

"You mock me still, then," he said with sudden harshness. "Do you accept my friendship or reject it? Answer."

"I—I accept it," she stammered, now terrified at the thought of what he might do if she made him her enemy. "But you ask too much of me. Perhaps when I come to London...."

"Do you take me for a fool, Madame! What value can you expect me to place upon any promise you may make after your treatment of me last night. Think you I'll give you rope to send your Mr. Brook to put a further slight upon me at some future date? No, no! The inquest is to-morrow, and after it my trump-card will have lost its value. You will pleasure me to-night or never."

"You cannot—you cannot mean that you would tell all you know— all you suspect, unless I consent?"

He bowed ironically. "Madame; you have summed up the situation

perfectly. Events have placed you completely in my power; and for having so lightly given Mr. Brook the preference over myself, after having raised my hopes, I mean to make you pay to the last farthing. By eleven o'clock you will see to it that you are alone and that the door of your chamber is unbolted."

Something snapped in Georgina's brain. White to the lips and with her eyes blazing, she cried: "I'll do no such thing! I will not lie with you to-night or at any other time. Nay, never! Not if you were the last man on earth. I will hang rather! Now, get you from my sight! Be gone this instant, or I will ring for my servants to throw you from the house."

"Such a show of spirit makes you more desirable than ever," he mocked her; but he moved quietly to the door. At it he turned and delivered a final ultimatum. "You still have two hours in which to think matters over, Madame. No doubt time will restore your calm and reflection bring you wisdom. You can send me a message by your maid. But remember; only your kisses to-night can seal my lips at the inquest to-morrow."

CHAPTER VI

THE PARTING OF THE WAYS

WHENthe door had closed behind Vorontzoff, Georgina did not give way to either tears or panic. Her rage was white-hot but she knew that this was no time to allow hysteria to overcome her; She had to think, and use her brain calmly and logically in order to decide which she should take of two horrible alternatives.

The Russian's threat to make her pay to the last farthing was ample evidence of the intensity of the bitterness she had aroused in him the night before. She had sensed the barbarian streak in him and now knew that it lay more than skin deep. He was vicious, brutal and unscrupulous to the last degree. She felt certain that if he could not have her he was quite capable of destroying her.

Had she alone been concerned she would have stuck to her guns and taken a desperate gamble on the Russian being disbelieved; but she had Roger to think of. His swiftly made plan to save them both had proved sound in all essentials. Vorontzoff alone had seen through it; and that only on account of the special knowledge he had of the previous night's events. He alone had had reason from the start to suppose that Roger had been with her, thus making it easy for him to connect the weal on Roger's hand with the mark on her neck. He alone had known that she kept the scent-bottle not on her dressing-table, but by her bed. Everyone else had accepted the story she had told in its entirety. And there was every reason now to suppose that, subject to the Russian keeping his mouth shut, it would also be believed at the official inquiry.

She knew that any chance she had, so far, of escaping the terrible penalty which must follow discovery, she owed to Roger's quick wits and sure handling of her during those moments of crisis. Now it was her turn. She had it in her power to save the situation; could she do less for him? He would not wish her to, at the price; of that she was certain. But his life was in her hands. Her conviction would mean his too. There was no escaping that; and she could not let him die. She loved him with a greater, deeper, more constant Jove than she would ever feel for any husband. Whatever it cost her she must save him by her surrender.

She thought then of what that would mean, and a little shudder ran through her. Somehow, last night the same prospect had seemed at first intriguing, then vaguely distasteful and rather frightening, but no worse than that. Now it was horrible—repulsive. She recalled again Vorontzoff saying that he would make her pay to the last farthing, and wondered what he had meant. She had a fairly shrewd idea. To revenge himself the more fully he intended to treat her with unbridled viciousness and brutality. It had been her sensing of his desire to do that during their first encounter which had frightened her. And now there would be no reason why he should put any re­straint upon himself. Last night, if he had handled her roughly, she could have got rid of him by threatening to call for help, and saying that he had forced his way into her room against her will. But she would not be able to do that to-night. He would continue to hold his black­mail over her and force her to submit to his every wish for seven long hours, until dawn at last set her free.

Little beads of perspiration broke out on her broad forehead and her hands were damp. She wondered with a sick feeling, that made her near to vomiting, whether she could go through with it, even to save Roger's life and her own. As in a nightmare, ghastly scenes with the Russian and herself as the actors seethed in her brain. Grimly a thought came to her. She had always loved weapons, and in the drawer of her bedside table she kept a beautifully chased Italian stiletto. If the Russian drove her too far she would use it on him.

If she killed him they would hang her for that. But no; if she swore that he had crept into her room while she was asleep and had tried to rape her, they would let her off. Her eyes glittered dangerously. That was the solution to this dreadful business. The stiletto was sharp as a razor and no wider than her thumb at its broadest part. One swift blow and it would be all over. Then, whatever might happen to her, Count Vorontzoff would have got his just deserts, and, with the closing of his mouth for good, Roger, at least, would be safe.

At that last thought another struck her. It was going to prove difficult, if not impossible, to keep Roger out of this new develop­ment. She never went to sleep before midnight, and whenever she and Roger spent the night apart it was his habit to come to her room and give her a good-night kiss before retiring to his own. It was certain that he would do so to-night, and as Vorontzoff proposed to come to her at eleven Roger would find the Russian with her. That could now result in only one thing; another killing in her bedchamber.

She began to consider how she could prevent Roger coming to her, but could see no way to do so. Not having seen her all day he must be consumed with anxiety about her state of mind and desperately anxious to prime her further for to-morrow's inquest.

It occurred to her that she could send a note to Vorontzoff putting him off till after midnight, but she feared that if she made the assign­ation for later than one o'clock he would rebel, and send a reply insist­ing that she should give him full value for his money. And even a two-hour, postponement was no certain guarantee against a clash. Roger would have so much to talk over with her that he might easily remain until long after one, and if she tried to get rid of him prematurely it was certain that he would suspect something.