Anne seemed less credulous—and more obstinate than he desired.
“I am not superstitious, but to think of the girl praying to those—I tell you, Stephen, the thought of it makes me afraid. Thank Heaven, she is praying—in the dark.”
“Tush—tush,” and he smiled down at her, “the girl is not quite human. We understand her, you—and I. Yet you seem to lack that diplomatic foresight, Nan, that sees in an enemy’s tricks—the very tools for one’s own hand.”
She looked up at him blankly.
“No, I foresee nothing save that—betrayal.”
“Which, if it occurred, could be turned aside as easily as I snap my fingers. There is but one person to be considered, and we must keep her fat and contented.”
“Jael?”
“Yes; the woman is greedy; that simplifies everything. To-morrow, then, you will come with me to the Mancini’s?”
“Oh—if it will help.”
“At least it can do no harm. Listen!”