"At present he is trying to collect your coat," she told him and noted with a smile his start of alarm. "When they took you you were coatless. He thinks somewhere in the forest they will find it and when they find it the paper will be there and perhaps other things of your own which will be interesting."
"I fear he will be disappointed," Trent said calmly, "but if he will return a favorite pipe in one of the pockets I shall be obliged."
She looked at him steadily. Hers was not always an easy face to read.
"I pray that they will find the coat," she said.
"Thank you," he exclaimed. "At least you make no pretence of wanting me to win."
"You don't understand," she cried, "it is because they will force you to tell if they cannot find it. I am speaking no more than the truth. Cannot you see that you have mixed yourself in high matters and are a menace to Count Michæl? He must know and he will know."
She saw his mouth tighten.
"Men just as strong and brave as you have broken down and told all."
"That may be," he answered, "but I am not going to alter my story about burning the paper and I am not going to weaken under any punishment they think of trying on me."
He was not going to tell her that in a few days he would be able to make his way out of this very cell if they kept handcuffs from him a little longer. Kicked out of sight among the dust on the floor was one of his most useful tools. It was a strip of highly tempered steel spring with a saw edge—forty teeth to the inch—and could bite its way through the barred window. When first he entered his prison he thought the opening too small for exit but he had revised his calculations and was now certain he could wriggle through it.