It was Judith who spoke with sharp interrogation, and Marson lifted his head wearily as he said:
"I must see him. He wrote to me that he had to speak upon a matter of importance, and I promised to grant him an interview."
"Between seven and eight o'clock to-night."
With a simultaneous impulse they both looked at the clock. It was half-past seven.
"He will be here shortly," said Judith, looking at Mr. Marson.
Marson raised his head quickly, and flashed a keen glance at her eager face.
Judith drummed with her fingers on the table, an anxious look appeared in her splendid eyes, and she frowned angrily. Marson saw all the signs of a coming storm, and waited. He had not long to wait.
"That man is a scoundrel," burst out Judith, in sombre fury; "he is coming here to tell you a lot of lies."
"I'm certain of it. He was a great friend of Sebastian Melstane's--a treacherous, cowardly friend, who played the traitor to his friendship."
"It's true, I tell you," said Judith, doggedly; "he knew Mr. Melstane loved Florry, but that did not deter him from loving her himself. He has shown by a thousand signs that he loves her, and he kept it from no one but his dead friend. Oh, he's not called Judas for nothing."
"I don't see what all this has to do with the interview."
Judith sprang to her feet, and crossing over to the table laid her hand lightly on his shoulder. He shrank from that light touch, but otherwise gave no sign of emotion.
"Do you know why he is coming here to-night?" she hissed into his ear. "Do you know what he intends to ask you? No, I see you don't! He is coming here to tell you something--something that is dangerous to you, and must be kept secret. He is coming to ask his price--that price is the hand of your daughter."
Marson looked at her in surprise as she towered above him, and he was about to speak, when a knock came to the door. Without waiting for an invitation to enter, a servant appeared with a card on a salver. He held out the salver to his master, but Judith picked up the card lying thereon and read it.
"Monsieur Jules Guinaud! Show him in here, Marks!"
The servant bowed and retired, while Marson looked suddenly at Miss Varlins.
"Not here," she said, pointing to a door masked by curtains at the end of the room; "I am going into the next room."