Captain Dove got on to his feet with a puzzled scowl. Slyne had turned aside, to light a couple of candles, as if in preparation for a descent underground.
Captain Dove slowly drew the back of one hand across his mouth and from behind it whispered a few words to Sallie. "Humour him just now," he advised with suppressed vehemence. "I'll see you safe."
"Well?" Slyne demanded and came toward her. "Which is it to be? Time's up."
His hands hung open but tense at his sides. His teeth were set between parted lips, his knees bent a little as he braced himself to spring at her wrists before she could make any movement in self-defence. Captain Dove had stepped up behind her and she did not doubt that, unless she fell in with their wishes, they meant now to overpower her and carry her off.
She did not move for a moment, but her clouded eyes slowly cleared, and Slyne, studying her features intently, relaxed his own strained attitude a little as if in fore-knowledge of final success.
Sallie's expression of utter despair had given place to one of resignation, almost of peace. She had made up her mind to have done with the seemingly endless, unequal struggle.
"Very well, Jasper," she said slowly at last, in a very hurtful voice. "You may tell the others—whatever you like—at dinner to-night, if you'll wait till then."
Captain Dove drew back and returned to his chair, as if satisfied for the moment. Slyne's dogged glance had dropped before the tragedy in her eyes.
"You can surely trust me, Sallie," he said, "after all I've done for you. And, listen! I'm not trying to rush you, either. If you'll tell the others at dinner to-night just that you take me for your husband—I'll wait till the end of the three months for our real wedding in church."
She could not quite understand what he really wanted, and looked her perplexity. But her mind was made up. She meant to keep any promise she might have made him, whether in writing or otherwise, and even mistakenly.