THE YELLOW DOVE
denly. Then he shut it quietly and coming back to the fire took the poker and made a hole between the glowing coals.
“Burn ’em!” he commanded.
She obeyed him wonderingly and together they watched the package of rice-papers flame into a live coal and then turn to ashes. When the last vestige of them had disappeared, they sat together on the davenport, Cyril thoughtful, the girl bewildered.
“What is Rizzio?” she repeated. “He told me that he was an agent of the English Government.”
“I can’t tell you,” he whispered hoarsely. “I can’t tell you anything—even you. Don’t you understand?”
“No, I don’t. It’s your word against his. I would rather believe you than him. I want to, Cyril. God knows I want to.”
“Didn’t I ask you to burn the papers? Didn’t he try to prevent it?”
“Yes.”
“Can’t you see? If he were acting for England, it wouldn’t matter what became of ’em if they didn’t reach Germany.”
“Oh, I thought of that—but what you have told me bewilders me. Why should you run away with secrets of England—given you by a traitor who is about to pay the penalty with—with death? What does it mean? Why didn’t you take those papers at once to the War Office? Why did Captain Byfield give them to you? He—a traitor—to you—Cyril! It is all so horrible. I am frightened. Your danger—Rizzio’s men, here—tonight—all about us.”
“If they were English secret service men,” Cyril put in quietly, “wouldn’t they come here to this house and arrest me in the name of the law?”
88
