“Why?”
“Because I hate Sorley, and I hate the girl, and the whole horrible lot,” she cried furiously.
“So you said before. This conversation is getting monotonous.”
“End it then; I don’t want you. But if you will take my advice you will give the peacock to Mr. Morad-Bakche. He has sworn to have it.”
“And I have sworn that he shall not have it. Do you think that I am afraid of a black man, Miss Grison? Moreover I have not got the bird.”
“Oh!” She shrugged her shoulders, “I daresay Sorley has concealed it somewhere, and will tell you where to find it before he is hanged.”
“He never will be hanged.”
“Yes he will. He can’t escape.”
“Unless it can be proved that you took the peacock to Belstone.”
“I never did,” said Miss Orison coldly; “Sorley made up that story to account for its possession and to implicate me.”