"Get up, sir, get up. When I offer you my hospitality are you childish enough to refuse it?"
"I refuse to leave this house."
"Is that so? Then I shall have to take your daughter and leave you behind."
Durrell started up in bed, vehement and scornful.
"You are an abominable rogue, De Rothan."
"No, sir, I play to make my point. Are you coming with us, or must Nance and I go alone?"
Durrell rose and began to dress.
Nance was sitting in the half-lit hall. She could see a man standing in the stone parlour with a lantern in his hand. He was watching her through the open doorway as though he had been left on guard. Nance was wondering whether it was possible for her to get at David Barfoot and leave some message with him for Jeremy Winter. She racked her brains for some ruse, some excuse.
Why should she not try being boldly frank, and challenge interference? She rose and walked toward the passage leading into the kitchen, only to become conscious of some live thing filling the darkness. She recoiled. Another man was on guard there. She had almost felt his breath upon her face.
"Pardon, madame, there ees no way heer."