"I don't want to be a queen," murmured Pen a little dizzied by this rush of words. "Well then, anything you wanted.... Do you want to do good? You can have whatever sums you want to lay out in good works. Absolutely without limit. You can make a name as a philanthropist such as nobody ever had before. You couldn't refuse such a chance--you couldn't! ... What do you say?" "I will not answer you now," repeated Pen. There was nothing else she could say. He stared at her as if unable to credit that she should not jump at such a chance. "You've got to give me an answer!" he said showing his teeth. "I'm going to find out how you stand towards this murderer." "Be careful!" cried Pen. That cry of hers answered him really, but he would not face it. He became abject again. "Well, I'll say no more about him.... Suppose you have a sort of fancy for him. All right. I'll give you a chance to save him.... Marry me at once. Come away on the _Alexandra_ with me, and I'll call off the chase. I'll withdraw the reward. With me out of it the case against Counsell would collapse like a pricked balloon. I couldn't offer fairer than that, could I? Come back with me now. The yacht has steam up. Will you? Will you?" Pen was shaken. "Would you really take me on such terms?" she murmured. "Oh God! I'd take you on any terms!" he groaned. The thought flew into Pen's brain: "You couldn't trust him!" She energetically shook her head. "I won't be rushed into anything." "Then I won't ask for a positive answer to-night," he stuttered. "But just a sign. Just a sign to show me I'm not hateful to you! .... Kiss me, Pen!" She hesitated. "Kiss me, Pen ... and I'll hold Delehanty back..." She yielded. That is to say she yielded with her mind. But the flesh rebelled. He gathered her in his arms taut as a bow-string. As his face approached hers she snapped. With a wild, blind reaction she tore herself free. No man could have held her. The open door was behind her. She darted through and slammed it shut. He put his shoulder against it, but she was at least as strong as he. She got the key turned. He beat on the door with the sides of his fists, cursing horribly, but as always, oddly careful not to make too much noise. Pen, nauseated with disgust, thought: "To be married to such a maniac!" Like a maniac he fell suddenly silent. She pictured him listening. Presently his voice came softly as if he had his lips to the crack of the door, wheedling, crafty, threatening; infinitely more disgusting than his rage. "Are you there? ... Listen, I'll give you another chance. Open the door!" A silence. "If you don't he goes to the chair! ... By God! I'll spend every cent I possess to send him to the chair. Do you get that? Better open the door!" A silence.