"I don't see it," returned Molly obstinately. "A wife's place is by her husband's side—especially when he has run away with another woman."
In spite of himself Tony laughed. "But supposing we reach Livadia—suppose we actually get into Portriga—what can you do even then?"
"What's the good of asking me that?" demanded Molly. "I don't know any more than you do—not till the time comes. The only thing is—" She broke off, as though not quite sure how to continue.
"Well?" said Tony encouragingly.
"It's just an idea—nothing else at present, but—but you have told me several times that this girl and I are almost exactly alike."
Tony nodded. He was staring at her with a sudden expression of freshly aroused interest.
"Well, don't you see?" Molly threw away her cigarette and rose to her feet. "Surely it's just possible that somehow—by some sort of a chance—we might be able to make use of this to help us." She laughed almost hysterically. "Oh, I know it sounds wild and mad, but what notion have you got that's any better?"
Tony took a couple of paces to the door, and back to where she was standing.
"By Jove, it's an idea, Molly!" he said slowly. "If we could get you there without being found out——"
"I have thought of that," she interrupted. "I was thinking of it all the time I was on the stage." She paused. "Tony—you remember that song I was singing a couple of years ago—the one in which I used to dress up as a curate?"