"You could try," he said desperately.
"Fool," said the girl contemptuously. "It's not a question of money. It's a question of men." And with that she fell to whistling under her breath.
Every decided that she was mad.
"I'm afraid I don't understand," he said stiffly. "What I'm doing, I'm doing with the approval of Mr. Plowman, solicitor to Colonel Winchester—he's the owner of this park: and, if you apply——"
"Yes, I know that," said André quietly. "But for this park, I should be Mrs. Winchester."
The scales fell from Every's eyes. The picture of the giant, of whom Plowman had told him, pacing a madman's cage, rose up before him, and a great wave of pity for his companion swept into his heart. It occurred to him suddenly that, but for the grace of God, Valerie French would stand by this strange girl's side….
"Think you understand, don't you?" sneered André. She laughed shortly. "You've got a lot to learn yet. First of all, my friend, this isn't a park. It's a temple. The very place you're standing on is holy ground. And those clowns you're sacking are priests—sworn to moil and toil for Gramarye until she's sucked the brains out of their heads. And you're spoiling her game … I should go carefully, if I were you, my friend. And if you get safe out of her to-day, I shouldn't come back—if you can help it… I don't want to be rude, but she's brought down bigger game than you—far bigger…. And they were her favourites."
"I'm not afraid," said Every.
"Of course you aren't. If you were, you'd be safe. If Samson had feared Delilah, he wouldn't have lost his eyes." She broke off and shrugged her shoulders. Then—"And now, if you're satisfied with my authority to question you, what's yours for dismissing these men?"
"I have none," said Every. "But the chap who was here—Lyveden——"