There was a ring of sincerity in this indignation quite foreign to his usual manner, and I could not understand it.
"And what is your plan?" I asked.
"To strike—and strike at once," he cried loudly, dashing his fist down on the table, "while Munich is mad with anger."
It was plausible enough, but I knew the man for a scoundrel.
"And my cousin—what does she say?" I asked.
"She can have no choice," he returned readily. "She must leave these things to us. She has a kind of reluctance, I know, and her heart has never been really in the work. But she is pledged to the finger-tips and can't draw back—at least without betraying the lot of us, as well as ruining herself. Sometimes I wish, indeed, that she had more spirit. Had I known she felt so strongly I should never have gone in so deep myself."
"Before I decide anything I must know her wishes," I said.
"Her wishes will be ours—if we make her understand that the alternative will be the ruin of all who have taken up her cause, and probably the death of every man here. Of course you'll force this home upon her?"
"It must first be forced home on me," said I.
"You know von Krugen's views," he urged.