Sir John filled his glass with trembling hand. "Ay, Sir, from the Secretary of State, for your arrest! You're charged with hightreason. ’ ‘Yes, it’s all my fault,’ he agreed soothingly, ‘and you may rail at me presently as much as you please. At this point Lucy, in an effort perhaps—foolhardy, in Gerald’s opinion—to pour oil on troubled waters, rose swiftly to her feet and came towards the old man, her hand held out. Her depression since the “accident” had possessed her, she no longer cared how she looked as her beauty helped her not. "The Chevalier shall hear of this," whispered the woollen-draper. Imagination, coloured by the obscurity, peopled the air with phantoms. Then the inner door opened abruptly. Please don’t tell anyone, mister. I want to but I cannot! Please accept that!” She yelled.
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