"Cowardly? Cowardly? Do you know what you are saying? The man is a thief!"
For one moment she shrank before the epithet; the next she raised her head, her eyes flashing, her lips parted.
"You have no right to use that word. You have not seen him steal."
"Seen him? No. But the ears are as reliable as the eyes, and we have heard him declare that he intends to steal."
"Intends! Intends! Intentions are not acts." In her deep agitation, she turned upon him with a new demeanor.
"Oh, be merciful!" she cried. "Give him the benefit of mercy. Wait till the Assembly is over, and then accuse him. If you can prove your accusation, then justice can be done. On the other hand—"
"The other hand?" Again Bale-Corphew's cruel laugh broke from him. "He has not shrunk from lies—from imposture—from blasphemy. Is it likely he will shrink from his reward? Oh no! We will run no risks. The trap has closed. No one will gain access to him to-night until the hour of the Gathering has arrived. It will be my special—my sacred—duty to watch and guard." As he spoke his eyes seemed to devour her face, and before the expression in their depths her strength faltered.
"And why have you come here?" she asked, unsteadily. "Why have you come here? What has this to do with me?"
As she put the questions, he watched her closely; and when her voice quivered, a spasm of emotion—a wave of jealousy and suspicion—swept his face.
"Can you ask that question?" he demanded.