The door of Elsin's chamber closed behind us. He descended the black stairway, feeling his way by touch along the slim rail of the banisters, and I waited there, lighting him from above until the front doors clashed behind him. Then I turned back to the closed door of Elsin's chamber and knocked loudly.
She flung it wide again, standing this time fully dressed, a gilt-edged tricorn on her head, and in her hands riding-whip and gloves.
"I know what need be done," she said haughtily. "Through this meshed tangle of treachery and dishonor there leads but one clean path. That I shall tread, Mr. Renault!"
"Let the words go," I said between tightening lips, "but give me that pair of pistols, now!"
"For Sir Peter's use?"
"No, for mine."
"I shall not!"
"Oh, you would rather see me hanged, like Captain Hale?"
She whitened where she stood, tugging at her gloves, teeth set in her lower lip.
"You shall neither fight nor hang," she said, her blue eyes fixed on space, busy with her gloves the while—so busy that her whip dropped, and I picked it up.