"I have no business of my own, Sir Robert. Last night you generously lifted all sordid business cares from my mind, and now I am quite free to attend those of my neighbours." He shrugged his shoulders in the French way. "Very well. A wilful man! You've had your warning, and-- I am not a man to be thwarted." "I might answer that I am not a man to be frightened." "You'll not be the first that has answered that. The others have 'Hic Jacet' engraved on their door plates. Well, it's an unsatisfactory world at best, and Lard! they're well quit of it. Still, you're young." "And have yet to learn discretion." "That's a pity too," he retorted lightly. "The door is waiting for you. Better take it, Mr. Montagu." "With the lady?" "I fear the lady is tired. Besides, man, think of her reputation. Zounds! Can she gad about the city at night alone with so gay a spark as you? 'Tis a censorious world, and tongues will clack. No, no! I will save you from any chance of such a scandal, Mr. Montagu." "Faith, one good turn deserves another. I'll stay here to save your reputation, Sir Robert." "I fear that mine is fly-blown already and something the worse for wear. It can take care of itself." "Yet I'll stay." "Gad's life! Stay then." Volney had been standing just within the door, and at the word he stepped out and flung it to. I sprang forward, but before I reached it the click sounded. I was a prisoner, caught like a fly in a spider's web, and much it helped me to beat on the iron-studded door till my hand bled, to call on him to come in and fight it out like a man, to storm up and down the room in a stress of passion. Presently my rage abated, and I took stock of my surroundings. The windows were barred with irons set in stone sockets by masonry. I set my knee against the window frame and tugged at them till I was moist with perspiration. As well I might have pulled at the pillars of St. Paul's. I tried my small sword as a lever, but it snapped in my hand. Again I examined the bars. There was no way but to pick them from their sockets by making a groove in the masonry. With the point of my sword I chipped industriously at the cement. At the end of ten minutes I had made perceptible progress. Yet it took me another hour of labour to accomplish my task. I undid the blind fastenings, clambered out, and lowered myself foot by foot to the ground by clinging to the ivy that grew thick along the wall. The vine gave to my hand, and the last three yards I took in a rush, but I picked myself up none the worse save for a torn face and bruised hands.