‘If you knew,’ she said, hiding her face, ‘what trouble I am in!’
He saw that she was crying. She drew away her hand impulsively.
‘I will help you!’ he exclaimed; ‘the spy the scorned spy, insists on helping you. No, tell me.’
‘Let me go,’ she said. ‘I came to London to entreat your silence and inaction. I went about the affair in a strange and silly way, but it happens that I have succeeded. You have promised to do nothing further. That suffices Let me go.’
‘You shall not go,’ he almost shouted; ‘I tell you you shall not go until you have confided in me. I owe you some reparation, and I positively insist on giving it.’
She raised her face and gazed at him.
‘I am the child of all misfortune,’ she said ‘as my country is the most unfortunate of countries. Mr. Redgrave, my father has disappeared.’
‘Oh!’ he said, as if to say, ‘Is that all?’
‘And I dare not search for him.’
‘They told me at the bank that he had gone on his annual holiday.’