He drew a deep breath of content. He had seen Tristram flinch. He had reached him at last, had forced him down from his heights to meet him in the equality of a life-and-death struggle. He could afford now to be patient and composed.
It was Sigrid who spoke. Her voice sounded curiously flat and lifeless.
"Why have you told us this?"
He turned to her.
"Because I am asking a great deal of you. This is not our old bargain, Sigrid. If you come with me, it must be on my own terms. I don't know where I am going—but I shall be an exile—an Eurasian outcast with a price on his head. And you have got to stick to me."
"And your wife? She believes that you care for her."
His hands were clenched.
"I have done with caring," he said harshly. "You've taken care that I shouldn't put love first in my life. Leave my wife out of this. Nothing concerns you but your own decision."
"And you are ready to sacrifice your plans——?"
"I am prepared to give Gaya a fighting chance," he interrupted sternly. "I do not pretend that it is more than that—perhaps not so much."