“If you do, you will ruin us both.”
“Well, tell me who you are.”
“I am a prisoner like yourself. My name is, or was, for I am dead now, Fulk Lechester.”
“Fulk Lechester—Lady Agnes’ cousin! Ah! I have heard of you,” said Aymer. “You were very clever, and you went—well, I mean—”
“Ha! ha! ha! I will convince you that I am as sane as yourself—saner; for what a goose you were to be so easily trapped.”
“So I certainly was.”
“Would you like to get out? Of course. So should I. Let me see. First, I have seen you—your physiognomy is good; next, I have read of your book, for I see the papers; thirdly, I knew your father, at least I knew all about his career; fourthly, you come from World’s End, and that is my neighbourhood; fifthly, you are young; sixthly, you are in love, which is a strong stimulus to exertion. Yes, you will do. Now eat your dinner; you must get strong.”
“I will not touch it till I see you. I will tear the picture down.”
“Oh, rash, headstrong! Lift it up instead.”
Aymer tried. “I can’t,” he said.