"You were the woman I saw last night," I said. "You followed us from High gate."
"What matter! What matter!" she exclaimed impatiently. "Better be footsore than heartsore. Will you do now what I want? Will you answer for his life?"
"I can do nothing without the others," I said.
"But the others know nothing," she answered. "They do not know their own danger. Where will you find them?"
"I shall find them," I replied resolutely. "And in any case I must consult Master Bertie. Will you come and see him?"
"And be locked up too?" she said sternly, and in a different tone. "No. It is you must do this, and you must answer for it, Francis Cludde. You, and no one else."
"I can do nothing by myself," I repeated.
"Ay, but you can--you must!" she retorted, "or Heaven's curse will be upon you! You think me mad to say that. Listen! Listen, fool! The man whom you have condemned, whom you have left to die, is not only my husband, wedded to me these three years, but your father--your father, Ferdinand Cludde!"