“Treachery?”
The man nodded. And the woman gave a sharp exclamation of disgust.
“Treachery! I hate it. I despise it. I—I could kill a traitor. You—fear treachery?”
“I have been warned of it. That’s all,” he said, in a hard biting voice. “It is because of this I’ve come to you to-night. Who can tell the outcome of to-morrow if there’s treachery? So I came to you to make my—last appeal.” In a moment his passion was blazing forth again. “Say the word, dear. Forget this man. Give me one little grain of hope. We can leave this place, and all the treachery in the world doesn’t matter. We can leave that, and everything else, behind us—forever.”
Kate shook her head. It almost seemed as though his pleading had passed her by.
“It can’t be,” she said, almost coldly. “It’s too late.”
“Too late?”
The woman nodded, but her thoughts seemed far away.
“Tell me,” she said, after a pause, while she avoided the man’s despairing eyes, “where does the treachery—lie?”