“And—and—Levant, and Lady Grace!” said Spenser Churchill, with a leer.
“I am ready,” said Percy Levant, quietly.
But as he spoke Doris sprang to her feet, and, gently putting her father’s arm aside, stood in front of Percy Levant.
“No!” she cried, panting; “I say no!”
Percy Levant drew a long breath. “Let the law take its course, Lady Mary!” he said, in a low voice. But she still stood in front of him as if to shield and protect him.
The marquis held out his hand to her as if he could not bear her to leave his side.
“Come to me, come to me. Let them—let them go,” and he glanced in the direction of Lady Grace and Spenser Churchill.
The latter did not wait for the permission to be repeated. With an air of long-suffering patience and saintly resignation, he shook his head reproachfully at Percy Levant.
“Judas!” he murmured, “we shall have a day of reckoning, we two, Judas!”
Percy Levant scarcely glanced at him; and Spenser Churchill as he moved slowly to the door, smiled a ghastly smile at Lady Grace. “Let me escort you from this exclusively family party, dear Lady Grace,” he said, sardonically. But, like most conspirators when the plot has failed, she drew back and eyed him scornfully.