Dropping the shawl, Karl started to his feet.
"Be quiet! You are trying to drive me mad," he cried. "Do you want to ruin me? For God's sake, man, be still!"
"Afraid again, O Puritan," Millar sneered. "Why, boy, life is only worth living when it is thrown away."
"Why do you tell me that?" Karl demanded. "Why do you hover over me? What do you want? Who sent you?"
"No one; I am here."
He again touched his forehead significantly and Karl shuddered. "I won't do it; no, no, no! Do you hear? I won't," the boy cried hysterically. "I have been her good friend for years—we have been good friends; we will remain good friends. I don't want the found sovereign."
"But if it slips through your fingers," Millar cried. "Suppose another man runs away with her."
"Who?" Karl demanded.
"Myself," Millar replied coolly.
"You!"