A shadow of pain passed over Guy’s face. To-night, he had set out to visit his beloved Isobel, and he had been snared.
Contraras watched him narrowly through the holes of his mask.
“And a big fortune will be yours very shortly. Are you prepared to give up these advantages for the sake of thwarting the brotherhood?”
“I rather think I am. But tell me what you propose. I admit you are arguing in a most temperate fashion. But you have something up your sleeve all the time.”
“I have,” admitted Contraras frankly. “Mr Rossett, believe me, I have no personal animosity against you, except as the tool of a decaying and effete system. Come into line with me, and your bonds shall be loosed, and you shall go forth a free man.”
“Your conditions?” queried Rossett, in a hard voice.
“Take your solemn oath, no, give me your word as an English gentleman—I will accept that—that you will resign your position at the Embassy, and take no further action against the brotherhood.”
He rose, and pointed at the door. “Give me that promise, Mr Rossett, and you can walk out a free man.”
If Guy hesitated a moment, his hesitation must be pardoned. In that swift instant he thought of Isobel, anxiously waiting his arrival, his dear sister Mary, anxious and troubled also, even his father, whose maladroit interference in his affairs had sent him into this hotbed of disaffection.
Then he spoke slowly and deliberately. “You invite me to dishonour myself, in order to secure my own personal safety. My answer is, No. Do your worst.”