"Absolutely," I answered.
"Then listen to me now," she said. "That man, never mind his name, is one of nature's criminals. He is a traitor, a renegade, a malefactor. He has sinned against every law, he has written his own death-warrant. He deserves to die, he will die! That is a certain thing. He would have been dead before now, but for me! Do you know why I have made them spare his life?"
"No!" I answered. "Who are they? and who is to be his executioner? Surely, if he is all that you say there are laws under whose ban he must have come. It is not safe to talk like this of life and death here. All those things are arranged nowadays in the courts."
She smiled at me scornfully.
"Never mind that," she said. "You speak now of things which you do not understand. I want to tell you why I would not let them kill him."
"Well?"
"It is because if he is killed the secret goes with him. Never mind how he came by it, or who he is. It is sufficient for you to know that he has it. Up to now, he has resisted even torture. You remember the color of his hair? It went like that in a night, but he held out. Now he knows that he is going to die, and he is seeking for some one to whom he may pass it on."
"What is this secret then?" I asked, perplexed.
"Don't be absurd," she answered. "If I knew it, should I be likely to tell it to you? I have an idea of the nature of it, of course. But that is not enough."
"But—who is he then?" I asked. "How came he to obtain possession of it?"