"No, it is for us. I can't let you. I'll go to father and make him give it up."
The sincerity of her distress touched him very deeply. He reached out and caught her hands.
"Nance, I'm no boy. I'm as good a man as De Rothan. I can't go back; my honour's in it. I've got to fight this man and beat him. Don't you see how it will mend everything?"
She would not meet his eyes.
"But you are sacrificing yourself——"
"No—no—no. Look at it in this way. I fight De Rothan; perhaps I kill him—perhaps I only wound him. If he comes out of it alive, I take him by the collar, tell him what I know, and give him twelve hours in which to leave the country. Go he shall. Then will come the time to appeal to your father's common sense."
His blunt confidence almost persuaded her.
"Oh, you are brave enough. But as to my father's common sense——"
Jasper laughed at her quaint despair.
"Well, I shall come to him and say, 'Mr. Durrell, I happen to have discovered about this French affair. I have some of your secret papers in my possession. Our friend the Chevalier de Rothan is dead, or has fled the country. The game is up. Swear to try no more plotting, and I will not breathe a word of what I know. Otherwise I shall have to hand you over to the authorities.'"