‘She won’t confide in you? Now, why?’ ‘Because that scoundrel Leonardo drummed it into her head that no man was to be trusted,’ Gerald announced viciously. She stood there with white set face and nervously clenched fingers. ‘And it is me you dare accuse? It is yourself you should arrest. But Blueskin was not to be silenced. The first time, I overlooked the offence; but the second time, when I had planned to break open the house of his master, the fellow who visited you to-night,—Wood, the carpenter of Wych Street,—he betrayed me.
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