"No!" she stopped and pressed her hands against her loudly beating heart, "that, I'll never believe."
"But the verdict of the jury."
"It is a mistaken one. And his own cousin, who should defend him, is the one to offer that iniquitous reward."
"I say," Pope looked at her curiously through the gathering gloom, "you do talk first-rate at times, Elspeth."
"I have been to a good school," she answered shortly.
"You might help me with my poetry," suggested the poet.
"Well, I will, if you'll promise to give up trying to get this reward."
"No, I shan't," snarled the uncouth creature. "If I can get that money I'll be able to publish my poetry. You don't know how my genius longs to spread its wings."
"I know that your genius, as you call it, is perfectly capable of hanging an innocent man to get blood-money," she flamed out.
"Everyone has to look after himself," returned Pope sulkily, "and if this Mr. Herries is not guilty, who is?"