He asked in turn, “What do you think she said?”
For my part, I could only reply that it was a question of character, but that while she might feel regret and express her penitence in words, a woman who had done what she had done would never express it in acts.
Merton said, “Thank you,” which seemed to me a rather odd reply. He rose as he spoke and for a moment walked about in silence, and then said: “By George! Greville, I felt as if I had insulted her. You think I was right—it is quite a relief.” He spoke with an amount of emotion which appeared to me uncalled for.
“Yes, of course you were right; but what did she say?”
“‘Say?’ She said: ‘I am not a child, sir. I did what I know to be wrong. I did it for no personal advantage. I am punished when I think of myself as a thief. I have already suffered otherwise. I do not care. I did it for my country, as—as you kill men for it. I shall abide by what I did and may God forgive me! But if you are ashamed—if you are shocked—if you think—oh, if you fear to assist me, you will at least consider what I have said as a confidence.’ She stood up as she answered me, and spoke out with entire absence of care about being overheard. Ah, but I wanted to see that masked face! I said twice as she spoke: ‘Be careful. You mistake me.’ She took not the least notice of my caution. Then at last I said: ‘Pray sit down. It was—it is clear, madame, that all concerned or who may concern themselves, with this matter must feel absolute security that there will be no weakness anywhere. After what you have said, and with entire trust in you, we shall at all risks see this thing through.’ She said, ‘Thank you,’ and did sit down.
“Then I went on: ‘I want to ask you a question or two. Did the count recognize you?’
“‘I was not sure at the time, but he must have at least suspected me, for he called next day at an unusually early hour, insisted on seeing me, and frankly told me that on the night before, during the fire, a document had been stolen from his table. He had remembered me as near to the office. Did I know anything about it? I said, “How could I?” I was dreadfully scared, but I replied that I had certainly gone through his office and had left both doors open. Then he said, “It is too grave a matter for equivocation, and I ask, Did you take it?” I said I was insulted, and upon this he lost his temper and threatened all manner of consequences.’