“Of course,” he laughed, trying to change the subject of their talk; but she arose and leaned against the desk near him, vowing that she would not leave the office without piercing some part of this mystery.  His manner strengthened her suspicion that there was something behind it all.  This dissipated, brilliant creature knew the situation thoroughly; and yet, though swayed by her efforts, he remained chained by caution.  She leaned forward and smiled at him.

“You’re just like the others, aren’t you?  You won’t give me any satisfaction at all.”

“Give, give, give,” said Struve, cynically.  “That’s always the woman’s cry.  Give me this—­give me that.  Selfish sex!  Why don’t you offer something in return?  Men are traders, women usurers.  You are curious, hence miserable.  I can help you, therefore I should, do it for a smile.  You ask me to break my promises and risk my honor on your caprice.  Well, that’s woman-like, and I’ll do it.  I’ll put myself in your power, but I won’t do it gratis.  No, we’ll trade.”

“It isn’t curiosity,” she denied, indignantly.  “It is my due.”

“No; you’ve heard the common talk and grown suspicious, that’s all.  You think I know something that will throw a new light or a new shadow on everything you have in the world, and you’re worked up to such a condition that you can’t take your own people’s word; and, on the other hand, you can’t go to strangers, so you come to me.  Suppose I told you I had the papers you brought to me last spring in that safe and that they told the whole story—­whether your uncle is unimpeachable or whether he deserved hanging by that mob.  What would you do, eh?  What would you give to see them?  Well, they’re there and ready to speak for themselves.  If you’re a woman you won’t rest till you’ve seen them.  Will you trade?”

“Yes, yes!  Give them to me,” she cried, eagerly, at which a wave of crimson rushed up to his eyes and he rose abruptly from his chair.  He made towards her, but she retreated to the wall, pale and wide-eyed.

“Can’t you see,” she flung at him, “that I must know?”

He paused.  “Of course I can, but I want a kiss to bind the bargain—­to apply on account.”  He reached for her hand with his own hot one, but she pushed him away and slipped past him towards the door.

“Suit yourself,” said he, “but if I’m not mistaken, you’ll never rest till you’ve seen those papers.  I’ve studied you, and I’ll place a bet that you can’t marry McNamara nor look your uncle in the eye till you know the truth.  You might do either if you knew them to be crooks, but you couldn’t if you only suspected it—­ that’s the woman.  When you get ready, come back; I’ll show you proof, because I don’t claim to be anything but what I am—­Wilton Struve, bargainer of some mean ability.  When they come to inscribe my headstone I hope they can carve thereon with truth, ’He got value received.’”