‘Indeed,’ said he, bending a steady look at her. ‘What opportunities, might I ask, have you had to form this same opinion?’
‘Are not the public papers full of him? Have we not an almost daily record of his exploits? Do not your own rewards for his capture impart an almost fabulous value to his life?’
‘His portrait, too, may lend some interest to his story,’ said he, with a half-sneering smile. ‘They say this is very like him.’ And he handed a photograph as he spoke.
‘This was done in New York,’ said she, turning to the back of the card, the better to hide an emotion she could not entirely repress.
‘Yes, done by a brother Fenian, long since in our pay.’
‘How base all that sounds! how I detest such treachery!’
‘How deal with treason without it? Is it like him?’ asked he artlessly.
‘How should I know?’ said she, in a slightly hurried tone. ‘It is not like the portrait in the Illustrated News.’
‘I wonder which is the more like,’ added he thoughtfully, ‘and I fervently hope we shall soon know. There is not a man he confides in who has not engaged to betray him.’
‘I trust you feel proud of your achievement.’