“What made you suspect me?” asked Archie. “You can tell me anything now. There is only one end to this business. It will be the making of you.”
“Pshaw!” exclaimed the other, turning away.
“Why did you follow me?” continued Archie.
Callandar was silent.
“Tell me this,” he said at last: “What makes you give yourself up now, without a struggle or a protest, when little more than two hours ago you ran from what you knew was to come, there, at the foot of the hill? Surely your friends would have spared you!”
“Now it is I who do not understand you,” said Archie.
His companion stood in front of him, searching his face.
“Flemington, are you lying? On your soul, are you lying?”
“Of what use are lies to me now?” exclaimed Archie impatiently. “Truth is a great luxury; believe me, I enjoy it.”