among strangers and left me there, to die, as he thought. But he was mistaken. I had something to live for,—to follow him, as I have followed him and will follow him to the end."
The woman rose from the table; Mr. Britton rose also, and stood for a moment, facing her.
"He is a dangerous man," he said; "how is it that you do not fear him?"
She laughed softly. "He fears me, Señor; why should I fear him?"
"I understand," Mr. Britton said; "he fears you because you know him to be a criminal; because his freedom—perhaps his very life—is in your hands. Why are you not in danger on that account? What is to hinder his taking a life so inimical to his own?"
A cunning, treacherous smile crept over her face and a baleful light gleamed in her eyes, as she replied, "If I die at his hand my secret does not die with me. I have fixed that. If I die to-day, the world knows my secret to-morrow. He knows it, Señor, and I am safe."
"Did it never occur to you," said Mr. Britton, slowly, "that for the safety of others your secret should be made known now?"
The woman's whole appearance changed; she regarded Mr. Britton with a look of mingled anger and terror, as he continued:
"That man's life and freedom are a constant menace to other lives. Are you willing to take the responsibility of the results which may follow your withholding that secret, keeping it locked within your own breast?"
The woman looked quickly for a chance of escape, but Mr. Britton barred the only means of exit. Her expression was that of a creature brought to bay.