THE YELLOW DOVE
an outcry. They will come and I will tell them. Then you can denounce me? Will you dare?”
He came toward her while she fled around the davenport, eluding him with ease. She was swifter of foot than he. He stopped a moment near the gun-rack to plead. She kept the huge oak lounge between them and listened by the fire. Something she saw in his eyes decided her, for as he came forward to leap over the davenport she threw something yellow toward him.
He gave a gasp of relief, picked the object up and made a cry of dismay.
“The cover! I must have the papers,” he cried, coming forward again.
By this time the girl was standing upright, a poker in one hand, the thin cigarette papers cramped in the fingers of the other, over the open fire.
Rizzio paused in the very act of leaping.
“Not that,” he whispered hoarsely, “for God’s sake—not that.”
“Stay where you are, then,” said the girl in a low resolute tone.
Rizzio straightened. Doris still bent over the fire.
“Give it to me,” he said again.
“No. England’s secrets shall be safe.”
“Don’t you understand?” he whispered wildly. “I’ve got to prove that they are.”
“I can prove that as well as you”
“But you won’t. Hammersley is”
He paused and both of them straightened, listening. Outside in the hall there was a commotion and a familiar voice as the Honorable Cyril, his face and fur coat spattered with mud, came into the room.
