To that prayer she offered no response. She sat bemused, her brow wrinkled.
“I would it might be done without fighting,” she said presently, and sighed wearily.
“You need have no fear,” he assured her. “I shall take all precautions for you. You shall remain here until all is over and the entrance will be guarded by a few whom I can trust.”
“You mistake me,” she replied, and looked up at him suddenly. “Do you suppose my fears are for myself?” She paused again, and then abruptly asked him, “What will befall you?”
“I thank you for the thought,” he replied gravely. “No doubt I shall meet with my deserts. Let it but come swiftly when it comes.”
“Ah, no, no!” she cried. “Not that!” And rose in her sudden agitation.
“What else remains?” he asked, and smiled. “What better fate could anyone desire me?”
“You shall live to return to England,” she surprised him by exclaiming. “The truth must prevail, and justice be done you.”
He looked at her with so fierce and searching a gaze that she averted her eyes. Then he laughed shortly.
“There’s but one form of justice I can look for in England,” said he. “It is a justice administered in hemp. Believe me, mistress, I am grown too notorious for mercy. Best end it here to-night. Besides,” he added, and his mockery fell from him, his tone became gloomy, “bethink you of my present act of treachery to these men of mine, who, whatever they may be, have followed me into a score of perils and but to-day have shown their love and loyalty to me to be greater than their devotion to the Basha himself. I shall have delivered them to the sword. Could I survive with honour? They may be but poor heathens to you and yours, but to me they are my sea-hawks, my warriors, my faithful gallant followers, and I were a dog indeed did I survive the death to which I have doomed them.”