“I thought you had already given it up. If you choose to annul the agreement, do it, and go. You know the forfeit.”
“I forgot this possibility. Did I agree to obey in all things?”
“It was so set down in the bond. Entire obedience in return for the success you coveted. Have I failed in my part of the bargain?”
“No, sir; no.”
“Then do yours, or let us cancel the bond, and part.”
“How can we? What can I do without you? Is there no way but this?”
“None.”
Canaris looked dismayed,—and well he might, for it seemed impossible to put away the cup he had thirsted for, when its first intoxicating draught was at his lips.
Helwyze had spoken with peculiar emphasis, and his words were full of ominous suggestion to the listener’s ear; for he alone knew how much rebellion would cost him, since luxury and fame were still dearer than liberty or honor. He sprung up, and paced the room, feeling like some wild creature caught in a snare.
Helwyze, regardless of his chafing, went on calmly, as if to a willing hearer, eying him vigilantly the while, though now his own manner was as persuasive as it had been imperative before.