Her fingers went to her corsage and her eyes gleamed with a new hope. She took the crumpled rice-papers out and looked at them. Then in a flash the thought came to her.
“You know the information contained in these papers?” she asked in an accent of deprecation.
“No,” he replied shortly. “I merely glanced at them.”
“You hadn’t the chance to study them?”
“No.”
Still she hesitated. “But what—what is Rizzio?”
He walked to the door of the room, opening it suddenly. Then he shut it quietly and coming back to the fire took the poker and made a hole between the glowing coals.
“Burn ’em!” he commanded.
She obeyed him wonderingly and together they watched the package of rice-papers flame into a live coal and then turn to ashes. When the last vestige of them had disappeared, they sat together on the davenport, Cyril thoughtful, the girl bewildered.
“What is Rizzio?” she repeated. “He told me that he was an agent of the English Government.”