‘It is done, my lord,’ said she. ‘Are you still of the same mind?’
‘Still of the same,’ said I.
‘It is death, death for you all,’ she said, and without more she went to the great door. Hogvardt opened it for her, and she walked away down the road, between the high rocks that bounded the path on either side. Then we went and carried the old man to a room that opened off the hall, and, returning, stood in the doorway, cooling our brows in the fresh early air. While we stood there, Hogvardt said suddenly,
‘It is five o’clock.’
‘Then we have only an hour to live,’ said I, smiling, ‘if we don’t make for the yacht.’
‘You’re not going back to the yacht, my lord?’
‘I’m puzzled,’ I admitted. ‘If we go this ruffian will escape. And if we don’t go—’
‘Why, we,’ Hogvardt ended for me, ‘may not escape.’
I saw that Hogvardt’s sense of responsibility was heavy; he always regarded himself as the shepherd, his employers as the sheep. I believe this attitude of his confirmed my obstinacy, for I said, without further hesitation: