"A more sensible question than your first, since it brings us to the point at once. I require, nay, I demand of you, the Norse altar-ring now in your keeping."
"What reason have you for supposing that it is here?" said Mrs. Breakspear, growing bolder.
"Do not equivocate." The eyes in the mask flashed like polished steel. "I know it to be in your possession. Do you deny it?" Mrs. Breakspear was silent. "You do not deny it? Good! The ring being here, I demand it."
"Why do you want it?"
"I decline to be catechised. Give me the ring."
"You are evidently a gentleman by education, if not by birth." The stranger gave a start at this. "And yet you seek to act the part of a common thief, a part you would not dare act," she cried with spirit, "were I a man, and not a defenceless woman."
The man shrugged his shoulders impatiently.
"I did not come to listen to moral vapourings, but to receive the ring."
"And what if I refuse to comply with your demand?"