“You made me an offer when you were here before.”
“I did.”
“Does that offer still hold good?”
“Oh, oh—there is something in the air. What does this mean?”
“It means that if you are still of the same mind, I will accept your offer and will go with you.”
“So you have thought better of your decision, then. But why this change?”
“That question is scarcely needed. I am very wretched. I prefer to place myself under your care than to remain longer a prisoner here; and if you will take me away I will go with you.”
The man smiled inwardly with satisfaction. It was a triumph he had not calculated upon, and he was surprised and gratified. No suspicion crossed his mind, because he considered it would be impossible for a white person to escape from the city. Whatever control was exercised over the troops and other people about the Palace, the mobs in the city were lawless and revengeful, and to be an European was, in their eyes, a crime punishable with instant and cruel death. He, therefore, felt that when once he had got her outside of the Palace she would be thoroughly in his power, and to return to the Palace would be a feat no less difficult of accomplishment than to get outside of the walls. He fairly chuckled as he thought of this, and his coarse features displayed the satisfaction he felt.
The loathing that Flora had for him was so great that it was only with great difficulty she could prevent herself from showing it. But she knew that in him lay her last hope, and if he failed, then all was lost indeed.