“I--threaten, ma'am? Nay, I am incapable of threatening. I do not threaten. I have reasoned with you, exhorted you, shown you cause why, had you one spark of decency left, you would allow me to depart and shield me from the law you have invoked to ruin me. I have hoped for your own sakes that you would be moved so to do. But since you will not--” He paused and shrugged. “On your own heads be it.” “On our own heads be what?” demanded Rotherby. But Mr. Caryll smiled, and shook his head. “Did you know all, it might indeed influence your decision; and I would not have that happen. You have chosen, have you not, Rotherby? You will sell me; you will hang me--me, your father's son. Poor Rotherby! From my soul I pity you!” “Pity me? Death! You impudent rogue! Keep your pity for those that need it.” “That is why I offer it you, Rotherby,” said Mr. Caryll, almost sadly. “In all my life, I have not met a man who stood more sorely in need of it, nor am I ever like to meet another.” There was a movement without, a tap at the door; and Humphries entered to announce Mr. Green's return, accompanied by Mr. Second Secretary Templeton, and without waiting for more, he ushered them into the room. CHAPTER XXII. THE HUNTERS To the amazement of them all, there entered a tall gentleman in a full-bottomed wig, with a long, pale face, a resolute mouth, and a pair of eyes that were keen, yet kindly. Close upon the heels of the second secretary came Mr. Green. Humphries withdrew, and closed the door. Mr. Templeton made her ladyship a low bow. “Madam,” said he very gravely, “I offer your ladyship--and you, my lord--my profoundest condolence in the bereavement you have suffered, and my scarcely less profound excuses for this intrusion upon your grief.” Mr. Templeton may or may not have reflected that the grief upon which he deplored his intrusion was none so apparent. “I had not ventured to do so,” he continued, “but that your lordship seemed to invite my presence.” “Invited it, sir?” questioned Rotherby with deference. “I should scarcely have presumed so far as to invite it.” “Not directly, perhaps,” returned the second secretary. His was a deep, rich voice, and he spoke with great deliberateness, as if considering well each word before allowing it utterance. “Not directly, perhaps; but in view of your message to Lord Carteret, his lordship has desired me to come in person to inquire into this matter for him, before proceeding farther. This fellow,” indicating Green, “brought information from you that a Jacobite--an agent of James Stuart--is being detained here, and that your lordship has a communication to make to the secretary of state.” Rotherby bowed his assent. “All I desired that Mr. Green should do meanwhile,” said he, “was to procure a warrant for this man's arrest. My revelations would have followed that. Has he the warrant?”