"What did you do with the papers?"
"I burned them in the fireplace," she said desperately.
Quinlevin rushed to the hearth and struck a match, examining the ashes minutely. Then he straightened quickly.
"You lie, Madame. I burned some letters here this morning. The ashes are just as I left them." In one stride he was at her side again, a pistol in his hand.
He caught her roughly by the arm and she bit her lip to keep from crying out with pain.
"He is down there. What did you do with the papers? Answer me."
"Let me go."
"No."
"What will you do?"
"Unless you tell me the truth—shoot him from the window."