"Forget it?" he repeated.
"I know," she continued slowly, "that Selingman has made advances to you. I know that he has a devilish gift for enrolling on his list men of honour and conscience. He has the knack of subtle argument, of twisting facts and preying upon human weaknesses. You have been shockingly treated by your Foreign Office. You yourself are entirely out of sympathy with your Government. You know very well that England, as she is, is a country which has lost her ideals, a country in which many of her sons might indeed, without much reproach, lose their pride, Selingman knows this. He knows how to work upon these facts. He might very easily convince you that the truest service you could render your country was to assist her in passing through a temporary tribulation."
He looked at her almost in surprise.
"You seem to know the man's methods," he observed.
"I do," she answered, "and I detest them. Now, Francis, please tell me the truth. Is your name, too, upon that long roll of those who are pledged to assist his country?"
"It is," he admitted.
She drew a little away.
"You admit it? You have already consented?"
"I have drawn a quarter's salary," Norgate confessed. "I have entered
Selingman's corps of the German Secret Service."
"You mean that you are a traitor!" she exclaimed.