“Murder us?” he stammered, foolishly.
“That’s why he told you that story at dinner tonight. That’s why he’s had men working on this tower, and didn’t suggest that you should come over till they’d finished. That’s why he’s locked us in here.”
“But, good God! Hilda, the man must be mad,” he said, hoarsely.
“On the subject of me he is,” she answered.
And still it seemed as if he could hardly realize.
“But someone must come,” he cried, angrily. “He can’t keep us shut in here for days.”
She went across to him.
“Didn’t you hear what he said as he went out? Suffocation. It took twelve hours for those two, and this is half the size. Six hours, Jack—six hours. And the servants are on the other side of the house.”
And now at last he understood, and with the understanding he became himself again. He smiled thoughtfully, and pressed out his cigarette.
“Under those circumstances—no smoking. And under those circumstances also—no scruples either.”