"I did not believe," he said, "that such things could be done. It is nonsense, of course, but such magnificent nonsense! It is the kind of situation, Miss Ffrench, where any man is justified in interfering. I beg you will leave the affair in my hands and think no more of such morbid self-sacrifice."
Stupefied, Emily flung back her head, staring at him.
"In your hands?"
"Since there are none better, it appears. Why," his vivid face questioned her full and straightly, "you didn't imagine that any man living could hear what you are doing, and pass on?"
"My uncle knows—"
"Your uncle—is not for me to criticize. But do not ask any other man to let you go on."
Her ideas reeling, she struggled for comprehension.
"You, what could you do?" she marveled. "The substitute—"
"There won't be any substitute," replied Lestrange with perfect coolness. "I shall train Dick Ffrench to do his work."
"You—"