“Heavens! Am I ejecting an innocent bystander? You are Lady Bazelhurst?”
“I am Penelope Drake. But”—she added quickly—“I am an enemy. I am Lord Bazelhurst's sister.”
“You—you don't mean it?”
“Are you disappointed? I'm sorry.”
“I am staggered and—a bit skeptical. There is no resemblance.”
“I am a bit taller,” she admitted carefully. “It is n't dreadfully immodest, is it, for one to hold converse with her captor? I am in your power, you see.”
“On the contrary, it is quite the thing. The heroine always converses with the villain in books. She tells him what she thinks of him.”
“But this is n't a book and I'm not a heroine. I am the adventuress. Will you permit me to explain my presence on your land?”
“No excuse is necessary. You were caught red-handed and you don't have to say anything to incriminate yourself further.”
“But it is scarcely a hundred feet to our line. In a very few minutes I shall be hurled relentlessly from your land and may never have another chance to tell why I dared to venture over here. You see, you have a haunted house on your land and I—” She hesitated.