RIZZIO TAKES CHARGE
“I didn’t want you to apologize. I merely thought in order to avoid comment that you might have come to me yourself.”
“I thought I might save you the unpleasantness of a controversy which can only have one end.”
“You mean—that you will win.”
“I do.”
“How?”
“You will give me the papers—here, tonight.”
“And if I told you that I had destroyed them?”
“That would be manifestly untrue, since at the present moment in the position of your body their outline is quite clearly defined on the inside of your right knee.”
Doris put both slippers upon the ground, her feet together, her face flushing warmly.
“I hope you will forgive my frankness,” she heard him say gently, “but the method of your challenge—is—unusual.”
She clasped her hands around her knees and frowned into the fire.
“You mistake, I think, my friend. It is not a challenge. It is merely a method of defense—the safest, I am sure, against John Rizzio.”
He bowed low with deep ceremony.
“Of course, I am helpless.” And then, “I can only rely on your good sense and”—here his voice sunk a note lower—“and on your loyalty to the cause of England.”
This was the opening that she had been waiting for. She thrust quickly.
“And if the cause is England’s why didn’t Scotland Yard come to Ashwater Park?”
“Dunsinane to Burnam Wood!” he shrugged. “They
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