"I would never lay claim to such an arrogance of cunning."
"Nevertheless you are no fool."
"I am no fool."
"And you imagine my protestations are not sincere, even after what I have suffered?"
He smiled at her most cunningly.
"You want proof?"
"I do not like unsigned documents."
She started forward in her chair with a strangely strenuous look on her face.
"Fanatic fools have often made some show of fortitude," she said, "by thrusting a hand into the fire, or the like. See now if I am a liar or a coward."
Before he could stay her she drew a small stiletto from her belt, spread her left hand on the table, and then smote the steel through the thick of the palm, and held it there without flinching as the blood flowed.