‘Heavens,’ I cried impatiently, ‘it may mean life or death to all of us, and you boggle over your oath!’
My rude impatience met with a rebuke that it perhaps deserved. With a glance of the utmost scorn, Euphrosyne asked coldly,
‘What are the lives of all of you to me?’
‘True, I forgot,’ said I, with a bitter politeness. ‘I beg your pardon. I did you all the service I could last night, and now—I and my friends may as well die as live! But, by God, I’ll pull this place to ruins, but I’ll find your secret.’
I was walking up and down now in a state of some excitement. My brain was fired with the thought of stealing a march on Constantine through the discovery of his own family secret.
Suddenly Euphrosyne gave a little soft clap with her hands. It was over in a minute, and she sat blushing, confused, trying to look as if she had not moved at all.
‘What did you do that for?’ I asked, stopping in front of her.
‘Nothing,’ said Euphrosyne.
‘Oh, I don’t believe that,’ said I.
She looked at me. ‘I didn’t mean to do it,’ she said. ‘But can’t you guess why?’