“I do think that,” she replied, looking steadily into his eyes.  “I think more than that.  I think that your place is in Sing Sing prison.”

The corners of his mouth twitched.  His amusement maddened her; her eyes flashed.  Underneath her white satin gown her bosom was rising and falling quickly.

He became suddenly grave.

“Do you take life seriously, Lady Elisabeth?” he asked.

“Certainly,” she answered firmly.  “I do not think that human life is a thing to be trifled with.  I agree with the Times.”

“In what it said about me?”

“Yes!

“And what was that?  It is neglectful of me, I know, but I never see the Times.”

“It held you entirely responsible for the death of those poor men in Chicago,” she told him.  “It named you as their murderer.”

“A very sensible paper, the Times,” he agreed.  “The responsibility was entirely mine.”

She looked at him for a moment in horror.

“You can dare to admit that here—­to me?”

“Why not?” he answered calmly.  “So long as it is my conviction, why not proclaim it?  I love the truth.  It is the one virtue which has never been denied me.”

Her eyes flashed.  She made no effort whatever to conceal her detestation.

“And they let you go—­those Americans?” she cried.  “I do not understand!”

“There are probably many other considerations in connection with the affair which you do not understand,” he observed.  “However—­they had their opportunity.  I walked the streets openly, I travelled to New York openly, I took my steamer ticket to England under my own name.  The papers, I believe, chronicled every stage of my journey.”

“It was disgraceful!” she declared.  “The people in office over there are cowards.”

“Not at all,” he objected.  “They were very well advised.  They acted with shrewd common sense.  America is no better prepared for a revolution than England is.”

“Do you imagine,” she demanded, her voice trembling, “that you will be permitted to repeat in this country your American exploits?”

Maraton smiled a little sadly.

“Need we discuss these things, Lady Elisabeth?”

“Yes, we need!” she replied promptly.  “This is my one opportunity.  You and I will probably never exchange another word so long as we live.  I have read your book—­every word of it.  I have read it several times.  In that book you have shown just as much of yourself as you chose, and no more.  Although I have hated the idea that I might ever have to speak to you, now that you are here, now that it has come to pass, I am going to ask you a question.”

He sighed.

“People ask me so many questions!”