“He is here, madame,” I heard a low voice say.  “Take the papers from him.  I have him safe.”

I think that my desperate humour lent me more than my usual strength.  With a fierce effort I wrenched myself free.  Almost immediately I heard the click of a revolver.  “If you move,” a low voice said, “I fire!” “What do you want?” I asked.  “The papers.”  I laughed bitterly.  “Are they worth my life?” I asked.  “The life of a dozen such as you,” the man answered.  “Quick!  Hand them over.”

Then I heard a little cry from the woman who had been standing a few feet off.  In the struggle I had lost my cap, and a faint watery moon, half hidden by a ragged bank of black clouds, was shining weakly down upon us.

“Guy,” she cried, and her voice was shaking as though with terror.  “Guy, is that you?”

I lost my self-control.  I forgot her sex, I forgot everything except that she was responsible for this unspeakable corruption.  I said terrible things to her.  And she listened, white—­calm—­speechless.  When I had finished she signed to the man to leave us.  He hesitated, but with a more peremptory gesture she dismissed him.

“Guy,” she said, “you have not spared me.  Perhaps I do not deserve it.  Now listen.  The whole thing is at an end.  Those few papers are all we want.  Your father is already in France.  I am leaving at once.  Give me those papers and you will be rid of us for ever.  If you do not I must stay on until I have received copies of a portion of them, at any rate.  You know very well now that I can do this.  Give me those that you have.  It will be safer—­in every way.”

“Give them to you?” I answered scornfully.  “Are you serious?”

“Very serious, Guy.  Do you not see that the sooner it is all over—­the better—­the safer—­up there?”

She pointed towards the house.  I could have struck the white fingers with their loathsome meaning.

“I shall take this packet to Lord Chelsford,” I said.  “I am down here as a spy—­a spy upon spies.  He is up at the house now, and to-morrow this packet will be in his hands.  I shall tell him how I secured it.  I think that after that you will not have many opportunities for plying your cursed trade.”

“You know the consequences?”

“They are not my concern,” I answered coldly.

She looked over her shoulder.

“If I,” she said, “were as unwavering in my duty as you I should call Jean back.”

“I am indifferent,” I answered.  “I do not value my life enough to shrink from fighting for it.”

She turned away.

“You are very young, Guy,” she said, “and you talk like a very young man.  You must go your own way.  Send for Lord Chelsford, if you will.  But remember all that it will mean.  Can’t you see that such stern morality as yours is the most exquisite form of selfishness?  Good-bye, Guy.”

She glided away.  I reached the “Brand” undisturbed.