Rizzio succeeded in a smile, though he was still struggling for breath.
“I suppose—I—I must thank you for your generosity, Hammersley,” he said with as fine a return of his composure as his throat permitted. “I have been guilty of—of an error in judgment——”
“I’m sorry you think it’s only that,” said Cyril dryly. “Now go,” he whispered threateningly, pointing to the window.
“In a moment—with your permission,” he said, recovering his suavity with his breath. “In extenuation of this visit, terrible as it seems to Miss Mather, I—I can only say that if I had succeeded I would have saved her from remembering some day that she had given England’s secrets into the hands of the enemy.”
“You’re mistaken,” said Doris quietly. “I have burned them.”
“You—you burned them?”
“Yes—tonight.”
Rizzio peered at her in silence for a long moment and then shrugged. “Oh,” he said, “in that case, I have made two errors in judgment——”
“You’ll make a third, if you’re not out of that window in half a second,” said Cyril.