"You'll die more than once in imagination before your time comes, Fatalité. Probably the next parcel you receive will not need as much investigation."
She tried to smile. "I'm sorry! They looked so uncanny, and when I saw red I thought—Emile, what does it all mean?"
"It means danger, my dear. It means that you are suspected. You yourself best know whether the suspicion is deserved or not. Of course it may be only one of the police tricks, but I don't think so. Anyway whether it was charged or not it's safe enough now. Look in the box and on the floor to see if there's any note or message. There isn't? Eh bien! I suppose they thought this would speak with sufficient eloquence."
He fished the bedraggled bouquet out of the water and hung it like a trophy across Arithelli's mirror, which was a fetish of its owner and the one valuable thing she now possessed. It had been the gift of Michael Furness, who had bought it from the Jewish herbalist. It was of antique silver gilt in oval shape, and rimmed with rough topaz set in silver, and was alleged by its former owner to have been the property of Agnès Sorél. Arithelli had often declared that in it she could see visions as in a crystal.
Over it Emile carefully arranged the flowers so that the stained red ribbons hung limply across the polished surface. Then he sat down again and lighted another cigarette.
"You ought not to be afraid of this sort of thing, you know," he said.
"Sudden death is part of our business. In the oath we take we swear to
'Slay or be slain,' if by so doing we can advance the Cause one small
step forward."
She caught at her breast with a sudden gesture of passion. Death—could they talk and think of nothing else? And she was a woman now, not a weapon, and she wanted life.
"You don't seem very enthusiastic," the cold voice continued. "A few months ago the dangerous side of the game was rather an attraction to you than otherwise. Now you shrink and shiver at everything. You do your work, yes, because, you can't help doing that, but is there any heart in what you do?"
"None! Every day I live, I loathe it more!"
"Take care!"