Horton smiled at her grimly.
"It's a mighty small sum, Nora—especially as you're not going to get any of it—unless Mr. Quinlevin has other means at his disposal."
"I want no money from Mr. Quinlevin."
"Then you're just lying for the fun of it? Do you happen to know what the penalty for false-swearing is in France?"
"Don't let him frighten you, Nora," interjected the Irishman.
"It's Excommunication," said Horton, grinning at his own invention.
Nora was silent but her face was a study in her varying emotions. She had not bargained for this, and her knees were shaking under her.
Quinlevin's laugh reassured her a little.
"I'm not believin' ye——" she muttered.
"You don't have to believe me—but you'll wish you'd never left Galway when Monsieur de Vautrin's lawyer gets through with you—and nothing at the end of it all but a French jail."