“You are in the hope, citizen,” she said, “that I will do my best to break my husband’s spirit by my tears or my prayers—is that it?”
“Not necessarily,” he replied pleasantly. “I assure you that we can manage to do that ourselves, in time.”
“You devil!” The cry of pain and of horror was involuntarily wrung from the depths of her soul. “Are you not afraid that God’s hand will strike you where you stand?”
“No,” he said lightly; “I am not afraid, Lady Blakeney. You see, I do not happen to believe in God. Come!” he added more seriously, “have I not proved to you that my offer is disinterested? Yet I repeat it even now. If you desire to see Sir Percy in prison, command me, and the doors shall be open to you.”
She waited a moment, looking him straight and quite dispassionately in the face; then she said coldly:
“Very well! I will go.”
“When?” he asked.
“This evening.”
“Just as you wish. I would have to go and see my friend Heron first, and arrange with him for your visit.”
“Then go. I will follow in half an hour.”