“At present,” he replied, “I scarcely know. In an hour or two I may be able to tell you. It is possible that it might take me twenty-four hours; certainly no longer than that.”
She walked to the window, and stood there with her hands clasped behind her back. Mr. Sabin had lit a cigarette and was smoking it thoughtfully.
Presently she spoke to him.
“You will get them,” she said; “yes, I believe that. In the end you will succeed, as you have succeeded in everything.”
There was a lack of enthusiasm in her tone. He looked up quietly, and flicked the ash from the end of his cigarette.
“You are right,” he said. “I shall succeed. My only regret is that I have made a slight miscalculation. It will take longer than I imagined. Knigenstein will be in a fever, and I am afraid that he will worry me. At the same time he is himself to blame. He has been needlessly precipitate.”
She turned away from the window and stood before him. She had a look in her face which he had seen there but once before, and the memory of which had ever since troubled him.
“I want you,” she said, “to understand this. I will not have any direct harm worked upon the Deringhams. If you can get what they have and what is necessary to us by craft—well, very good. If not, it must go! I will not have force used. You should remember that Lord Wolfenden saved your life! I will have nothing to do with any scheme which brings harm upon them!”
He looked at her steadily. A small spot of colour was burning high up on his pallid cheeks. The white, slender fingers, toying carelessly with one of the breakfast appointments, were shaking. He was very near being passionately angry.