"Smoke me out!"
"Perhaps with sulphur," I went on resolutely. "It is said to be very effective."
"Surely you will not do anything so horrid."
"Only as a last resort. First, we shall storm the east wing. Failing in that we shall rely on smoke. You will admit that you have no right to poach on my preserves."
"None whatever," she said, rather plaintively.
I can't remember having heard a sweeter voice than hers. Of course, by this time, I was thoroughly convinced that she was a lady,—a cultured, high-bred lady,—and an American. I was too densely enveloped by the fogginess of my own senses at this time, however, to take in this extraordinary feature of the case. Later on, in the seclusion of my study, the full force of it struck me and I marvelled.
That plaintive note in her voice served its purpose. My firmness seemed to dissolve, even as I sought to reinforce it by an injection of harshness into my own manner of speech.
"Then you should be willing to vacate my premises er—or—" here is where I began to show irresoluteness—"or explain yourself."
"Won't you be generous?"
I cleared my throat nervously. How well they know the cracks in a man's armour!