She took my hand coolly enough and stepped down into the passage. Then I broke upon her stormily.
“You don’t seem to understand the gravity of what you are doing! Don’t you know that you are risking your life in crawling through this house at midnight? —that even to serve Arthur Pickering, a life is a pretty big thing to throw away? Your infatuation for that blackguard seems to carry you far, Miss Devereux.”
She swung the lantern at arm’s length back and forth so that its rays at every forward motion struck my face like a blow.
“It isn’t exactly pleasant in this cavern. Unless you wish to turn me over to the lord high executioner, I will bid you good night.”
“But the infamy of this—of coming in here to spy upon me—to help my enemy—the man who is seeking plunder—doesn’t seem to trouble you.”
“No, not a particle!” she replied quietly, and then, with an impudent fling, “Oh, no!” She held up the lantern to look at the wick. “I’m really disappointed to find that you were a little ahead of me, Squire Glenarm. I didn’t give you credit for so much—perseverance. But if you have the notes—”
“The notes! He told you there were notes, did he? The coward sent you here to find them, after his other tools failed him?”
She laughed that low laugh of hers that was like the bubble of a spring.
“Of course no one would dare deny what the great Squire Glenarm says,” she said witheringly.