“You allude to me, I suppose,” said Lady Dudleigh. “At any rate, you must allow that it is better to be tracked, as you call it, by me, than by the officers of the law.”
“I don't care,” growled Sir Lionel, gathering courage. “I'll not stand this style of thing any longer. I'll not let them have it all their own way.”
“I don't see what you can do,” said Lady Dudleigh, quietly.
“Do!” cried Sir Lionel, in a still more violent tone—“do! I'll tell you what I'll do: I'll fight it out.”
“Fight!”
“Yes,” cried Sir Lionel, with an oath. “Every one of you—every one. Every one without a single exception. Oh, you needn't think that I'm afraid. I've thought it all over. You're all under my power. Yes—ha, ha, ha! that's it. I've said it, and I say what I mean. You thought that I was under your power. Your power! Ha, ha, ha! That's good. Why, you're all under mine—every one of you.”
Sir Lionel spoke wildly and vehemently, in that tone of feverish excitement which marks a madman. It may have been the influence of his “keeper,” or it may have been the dawnings of actual insanity.
As for Lady Dudleigh, she did not lose one particle of her cold-bloodedness. She simply said, in the same tone,
“How?”
“How? Ha, ha! Do you think I'm going to tell you? That's my secret. But stop. Yes; I don't care. I'd just as soon tell as not. You can't escape, not one of you, unless you all fly at once to the Continent, or to America, or, better yet, back to Botany Bay. There you'll be safe. Fly! fly! fly! or else,” he suddenly added, in a gloomy tone, “you'll all die on the gallows! every one of you, on the gallows! Ha, ha, ha! swinging on the gallows! the beautiful gallows!”