But if she had meant to turn aside his interest in the girl by calling her helpless, and alone in the world, her understanding of men (at least that kind of man) had failed her badly. He began to pace eagerly, his hands behind his back, speaking with the aggressive assurance of one accustomed to having his own way. And for all her fear and agitation, she could not help but notice that he was also terribly handsome. "This is what I want from you, for now. A small group of war prisoners (in truth it was closer to a hundred) have escaped from the hold at Edinburgh, the last, effectively speaking, of your would-be prince's Highland rabble. Our information is that they have since split up into smaller bands, each heading for their respective homeland. There, no doubt, they will attempt to stir sympathy for your deluded cause. "Fools!" he continued, as if possessed of the truths of the Universe. "Scotland's day is done. Henceforth her destiny shall be irrevocably tied to that of England. We are trying to be magnanimous, and make reforms. But we will not tolerate, we will crush utterly, any attempt at further rebellion." "Magnanimous?" she mocked, her pride returning. "Is that why you struck me? Is that why you threaten three lonely, bereft women, who have already lost to you all that they loved and held dear?" "I did what I had to do!" he cried hotly. "And will do more besides, if you don't hold your tongue. These traitors will be found, and punished---drawn and quartered, or hanged from the nearest tree. And anyone who aids them, or does not send word of them to me at once, will receive much the same. Though in the case of three lonely, bereft women, the punishment might be slower, more amusing." Again she was driven to fearful silence. She hoped that this would be the end of it, but apparently he had not yet received what he came for, a motive, perhaps, not entirely official. "And now, good widow Scott, I would very much like you to tell me where I might catch a glimpse of your charming daughter. Oh, do stop the theatrics," he said irritably, as she clasped her hands to her bosom and made as if to fall on her knees before him. "If I wanted the services of a whore I have the whole countryside to choose from. It is just that your daughter. . . interests me. For unless I am much mistaken, I have seen her once before." "I must beg you this last time," she pleaded. "Ask of me anything but this. Take me if you like, kill me if you must; but I cannot---" He had raised his pistol to arm's length as she spoke, and now fired it with a crack at a portrait of the child Mary that hung in the adjacent room. The ball found its mark at her throat, leaving a dark hole through the canvas of the shadow behind, and the frightened woman turned paler still. She tried to speak but he cut her short, his voice low and menacing.