"Yes," she whispered also, softly as a woman's whisper ever is. "Yes. He is here. Oh, father! for the love of God, betray us--him--no more. For if you do, it will not end this time with broken hearts, but with death." "Betray you," he said, "betray you again! Why will you not believe me once more? See, Kitty, see here," and as he spoke he rose from his chair and stood before her. "I swear to you that I am true in spite--in spite of what I once did, partly in ignorance--unwittingly. I myself loved Elphinston and always despised Larpent. And I did--honestly, I did--believe that he had married Mademoiselle Baufremont." "Well," she said, "well, he had not. Enough of that. And, since you ask me to trust you once again as I trusted you before, I answer you--remember his life, as well as Douglas Sholto's, are in your hands--he is in London. Both are here." "'Tis madness," he murmured, "madness. For, Kitty, as sure as he is here he will be betrayed. Fordingbridge will denounce him." "Alas!" she replied, almost wringing her hands, "alas! I fear as much myself. Yet Father Sholto says not--that it is impossible. For, he declares, should harm come to either of them through him, he will cause him also to be denounced. He knows some secret as to Fordingbridge's doings that, he says, would bring him to the block for a surety, which secret, if he turns traitor, he will use most remorselessly. And, do what he may, at least he is harmless now. He will be in Cheshire for a month. By that time I pray that both the others may be beyond the seas." "Have you seen him?" he asked, still in a low voice. He knew that in London at this time walls almost had ears, and that every footman or waiting-maid might be a spy of the Government--especially in a house but recently re-opened after many years of disuse, and, consequently, possessing a staff of servants new to their employers and taking neither interest nor sympathy in their affairs. Also he knew that, in the garb of servants, many a Government agent was carefully watching every action of his or her temporary employers. London especially had but recently recovered from too great a fright to cease as yet to fear for its safety, and saw a bugbear in many harmless strangers now in its midst; the house of a nobleman returned recently from France--the birthplace of the late invasion--and known to be a Catholic, would, therefore, be a particularly likely object to be subjected to supervision, quiet yet effectual. "No," she replied; "no, I have not seen him. God forbid I should. And if I did, the only words I could, I think, find heart to utter would be to beseech him to fly at once. Oh! father, father, I dread some awful calamity, though I know not in what form or shape it may come."