"Will you help my husband to escape?" asked Marion in a whisper. "No—do not say it. Wait until I tell you first how it can be done. Presently I will get them all into this room. Old Mr. Darche is too ill to come, I am afraid. You have not spoken alone to John yet. Take him aside and bring him close to this door on pretence of exchanging a few words. I will make a diversion of some sort at the other end of the room and as they all look round he can slip out. If he has one minute's start they will never see him again. Will you do it?"
"You were right," said Brett gravely. "It is a hard thing to ask."
"Will you do it?"
"It is criminal," he answered.
"Will you do it?"
"For God's sake, give me time to think!" He passed his hand over his eyes.
"There is no time," said Marion anxiously. "Will you do it for me?"
"How can I? how can I?"
"You told me that you loved me the other day—will you do it for my sake?"
A change came over Brett's face.