"Indeed, yes. But let me go on. I was also told that your information would be in our hands within twenty‑four hours, and then, I learned that Ydo was conducting the negotiations. That was the rift within the lute. I immediately became frightened. I did not know what it meant. What I did know was that Ydo stops at nothing to gain her ends. And of course, she, being interested, too—"
"How is she interested?" he interrupted again. "I have not discovered that."
"I will explain later. I want to go on with this part of my story now. But, as I say, knowing Ydo, her daring, her indifference to anything but her own game, her powers of resource—"
"Oh, come, you are unjust to her," he exclaimed, forgetful of his own base suspicions.
"Oh, I know it, but believe me, I am not"—again her head was haughtily lifted—"I am not trying to gain your sympathy by criticizing her; I am merely trying to make you understand the case as it appeared to me. As I say, I was frightened. It was all my own superstition. Indeed, I know that it was; but I got in a panic, and could not reason clearly. No," as he strove to take her hand, "please wait. And then, last night when Horace Penfield asked you to show the photographs I saw a confirmation of my fears, and when Ydo entered I was still more frightened. I suspected an arrangement, a plot between them. There were the photographs and maps on that little table where you had carelessly thrown them; any one could take them; and then when Ydo was going through her nonsense over that glass ball and had every one's attention fixed on her Horace crept around and stood so near the table that I was sure he was going to seize them, so I took them myself. I twisted the gauze scarf which was about my neck around them and carried them out that way. No one noticed. And here they are." She lifted the package from her muff, still wrapped in the scarf, and held it out to him. "No one has even glanced at them; not even myself."
"And you did this to save me! Oh, Marcia, Marcia!" He was more moved than he could express.
"Wait!" She lifted her hand imperatively. "I haven't finished. There are lots of things to tell you yet."
"Postpone them!" he cried ardently. "Forget them until to‑morrow! Ah, dearest, you are tired. You have borne too much strain already."
"No, no!" she cried. "It grows late, and I must, must tell you these things before I leave you."
"Leave me!" he cried. "Try it. When you go I go with you."