She felt no shame either. “Very well,” she said. “You know best. Good-night, Martin.”
Stonor went back to the fire. He was too much excited to think of sleeping immediately, but it was a happy excitement; he could even afford at the moment not to hate Imbrie. The prisoner watched his every movement through eyes that he tried to make sleepy-looking, but the sparkle of hatred betrayed him.
“You seem well pleased with yourself,” he sneered.
“Why shouldn’t I be?” said Stonor good-naturedly. “Haven’t I made a good haul to-day?”
“How did you do it?”
“I just borrowed a little of your magic for the occasion and flew through the air.”
“Well, you’re not out of the woods yet,” said Imbrie sourly.
“No?”
“And if you do succeed in taking me in, you’ll have some great explaining to do.”
“How’s that?”