"What is thy will?"
"Thy welfare, thy life; listen. Yonder unhappy wretch I have loaden with benefits, rescued from poverty, disgrace, lifted him to the pinnacle of his ambition, the highest rank in art. Base ingrate, he threatened to betray, to denounce, and I crushed the reptile. He is now what thou shalt be shortly, unless my power be put forth for thy rescue. Not all the united efforts of man can deliver thee. Beyond earthly aid, thou diest the death of a dog!"
"Why dost thou accuse me of a crime, knowing that I am innocent?"
"To drive thee, helpless, into my power. Think not to escape save on one condition."
"Name it," said De Vessey.
"Self-preservation is the great, the paramount law of our nature; the most powerful impulse implanted in our being. All, all obey this impulse; and who can control or forbid its operation? Will not the most timid, the most scrupulous, if no alternative be afforded, slay the adversary who seeks his life; and does not the law both of earth and heaven hold him guiltless? Thou art now denounced. Innocent, thy life must be sacrificed. Thou diest, or another; there is no choice."
"But shall I murder the innocent."
"And suppose it be. What thinkest thou? Two persons, equally guiltless, one of them must die. Self-preservation will prompt instinctively to action. Does not the drowning man cling to his companion; nay, rescue himself at the expense of another's life?"
De Vessey felt bewildered, if not convinced. Need we wonder if he yielded. Life or death. Honour, disgrace. His mistress restored; his innocence proved. Life, with him, had scarcely been tasted. A glorious career awaited him; his lady-love smiling through the bright vista of the future; and——the tempter prevailed!
But who must be the victim? The appalling truth was not then disclosed. De Vessey promised to obey.