'Well,' she repeated, 'why did he want you to leave ?' She was tremendously surprised at her own coolness, and somewhat pleased with it, too.
'I can't tell you, I can't tell you.' 'You've just got to,' Nella said, in a terrible, remorseless tone.
'He--he wished me to come over here to Ostend.

Something had gone wrong.
Oh! he's a fearful man, is Tom.

If I told you, he'd--' 'Had something gone wrong in the hotel, or over here ?' 'Both.' 'Was it about Prince Eugen of Posen ?' 'I don't know--that is, yes, I think so.' 'What has your husband to do with Prince Eugen ?' 'I believe he has some--some sort of business with him, some money business.' 'And was Mr Dimmock in this business?
'I fancy so, Miss Racksole.

I'm telling you all I know, that I swear.' 'Did your husband and Mr Dimmock have a quarrel that night in Room 111 ?' 'They had some difficulty.' 'And the result of that was that you came to Ostend instantly ?' 'Yes; I suppose so.' 'And what were you to do in Ostend?
What were your instructions from this husband of yours ?' Miss Spencer's head dropped on her arms on the table which separated her from Nella, and she appeared to sob violently.
'Have pity on me,' she murmured, 'I can't tell you any more.' 'Why ?' 'He'd kill me if he knew.' 'You're wandering from the subject,' observed Nella coldly.

'This is the last time I shall warn you.