“Yes, yes, I know!” she cried, starting. “Oh, it was all too terrible—too terrible! How can I face you, Mr. Biddulph, after that!”
“My only desire is to forget it all, Sylvia,” was my low and quiet response. “It was all my fault—my fault, for not heeding your warning. I never realized the evil machinations of those unknown enemies. How should I? As far as I know, I had never set eyes upon them before.”
“You would have done wiser to have gone into hiding, as I suggested,” she remarked quietly.
“Never mind,” I said cheerily. “It is all past. Let us dismiss it. There is surely no more danger—now that I am forearmed.”
“May they not fear your reprisals?” she exclaimed. “They did not intend that you should escape, remember.”
“No, they had already prepared my grave. I have seen it.”
“That grave was prepared for both of us,” she said in a calm, reflective voice.
“Then how did you escape?” I inquired, with curiosity.
“I do not know. I can only guess.”