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Page 58
"A compliment which I readily return."
"A private secretary; I never thought of you in that capacity."
"One must take what one can," tranquilly.
"A good precept." Cathewe rolled the ends of his mustache, a trifle
perplexed how to put it. "But there should be exceptions. What," and
his voice became crisp and cold, "what was Hildegarde von Mitter to
you?"
"And what is that to you?"
"My question first."
"I choose not to answer it."
Again they eyed each other like fencers.
"Were you married?"
Breitmann laughed. Here was his opportunity to wring this man's heart;
for he knew that Cathewe loved the woman. "You seem to be in her
confidence. Ask her."
"A poltroon would say as much. There is a phase in your make-up I have
never fully understood. Physically you are a brave man, but morally
you are a cad and a poltroon."
"Take care!" Breitmann stepped forward menacingly.
"There will be no fisticuffs," contemptuously.
"Not if you are careful. I have answered your questions; you had
better leave at once."
"She is loyal to you. It was not her voice that broke that night; it
was her heart, you have some hold over her."
"None that she can not throw off at any time." Breitmann's mind was
working strangely.
"If she would have me I would marry her tomorrow," went on Cathewe,
playing openly, "I would marry her to-morrow, priest or protestant, for
her religion would be mine."
There was a spark of admiration in Breitmann's eyes. This man Cathewe
was out of the ordinary. Well, as for that, so was he himself. He
walked silently to the door and opened it, standing aside for the other
to pass. "She is perfectly free. Marry her. She is all and more than
you wish her to be. Will you go now?"
Cathewe bowed and turned on his heel. Breitmann had really got the
better of him.
A peculiar interview, and only two strong men could have handled it in
so few words. Not a word above normal tones; once or twice only, in
the flutter of the eyelids or in the gesture of the hands, was there
any sign that had these been primitive times the two would have gone
joyously at each other's throats.
"I owed her that much," said Breitmann as he locked the door.
"It did not matter at all to me," was Cathewe's thought, as he knocked
on Fitzgerald's door and heard his cheery call, "I only wanted to know
what sort of man he is."
"Oh, I really don't know whether I like him or not," declared
Fitzgerald. "I have run across him two or three times, but we were
both busy. He has told me a little about himself. He's been knocked
about a good deal. Has a title, but doesn't use it."
"A title? That is news to me. Probably it is true."
"I was surprised to learn that you knew him at all."
"Not very well. Met him in Munich mostly."
A long pause.
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