“Blackmail?” said the Terror in a tone of pleasant animation. “Why, that’s what the Scotch reavers used to do! I never knew exactly what it was.”
“And we’re doing it. That is nice,” said Erebus, almost preening herself.
“But this is disgraceful! If you’d been village children—but gentlefolk!” cried Sir James with considerable heat.
“Well, the Douglases were gentlefolk; and they blackmailed,” said the Terror in a tone of sweet reason.
“Poaching’s a misdemeanor; blackmailing’s a kind of stealing,” said Erebus virtuously, forgetting for the moment her mother’s fur stole.
“Poaching’s a misdemeanor; blackmailing’s a felony,” said Sir James loftily.
The distinction was lost on the Twins; and Erebus said with conviction: “Poaching’s worse.”
Sir James hated to be beaten; and he looked from one to the other with very angry eyes. The Twins wore a cold imperturbable air. Their appearance no longer pleased him.
“It’s your own fault entirely,” said the Terror coldly. “If you’d been civil and answered our letter, even refusing, we shouldn’t have bothered about you. But you didn’t take any notice of it—”
“And it was beastly cheek,” said Erebus.