"You have killed Davies!" I exclaimed, springing up from the sofa on which I was seated. Hubert made a deprecatory gesture and forcing me down again seated himself insolently close to me. "Fie, fie!" he said, "those are not words for a pretty young lady to use to her old uncle. Have you not learned your Catechism, my dear? It is said there, 'Thou shalt not kill,' meaning thereby, kill anything save vermin. And, by the way," continues the villain, taking my arm and preventing my rising, "that's just what I want to talk about. I have a prejudice against killing members of my own family, a prejudice not shared by my brothers, worse luck to the sots, or else you would not be Lady Brandling as yet, and that poor, silly coxcomb of a Thomas would still be enjoying his glass and his lass. I hate a scandal, and intend to avoid one; also, I am genuinely attached to you and to your husband, for though a milksop, he is a man of parts and education, and I relish his conversation. Yes, my dear. I know what you are going to ask! The precious Eustace is quite safe, without a scratch in any part of his gentlemanly white body; and no harm shall come to him--on one condition: That you, my pretty vixen, for you are a _virago_, a warlike lady, my dear niece, that you swear very solemnly that neither you nor he will ever again attempt to leave St. Salvat's." He had taken my hand and was looking in my eyes with a villainous expression. "What do you say to that?" he went on. "I know you to be a woman of spirit and of honour, bound by an oath, and capable of making your husband respect it. You have nothing to gain by refusing. You are alone with me in this house. Your faithful Davies is as dead as a door-nail. Your virtuous spouse is quite safe downstairs, for I have taken the precaution to relieve him of all those dangerous swords and pistols of his, which a learned man might hurt himself with. I give you five minutes to make up your mind. If you accept my terms, you and Sir Eustace Brandling shall live honoured and happy at St. Salvat's among your obliged kinsmen. If you refuse, I shall, very reluctantly, hand over your husband to my brothers' tender mercies when they return home presently; and, as they do not know how to behave to a lady, I shall myself make it a point to act as a man of refinement and a tender heart should act towards a very pretty little shrew," and the creature dared to touch me with his lips upon my neck. I shrank back upon the sofa half paralysed, and with not strength enough to grow hot and crimson. Hubert rose, locked the doors, and, to my relief, sat down to the harpsichord, on which he began to pick out a tune. It was that very "_Phyllis plus avare que tendre_," which I had sung to my husband and him some days before. Was it a coincidence; or had he overheard us appoint it as a signal, and was he mocking and torturing Eustace as well as me?