He might
refuse, but that would not save her and he would be shot as well. Why
should he suffer because she had lost her courage and turned traitress?
She tried to collect her senses, and to think properly. Everything
felt blurred and far off. One thing alone seemed certain--that there
was no way out of the _impasse_.
Emile had walked to the glass-door and unlocked it. Then he came back
to her.
"It's time we were going," he said. "It will not do to be here too
long. As our friend the spy is patrolling the street outside in
readiness for my appearance, we will go out the other way. The Calle
Santa Teresa is nearly always deserted. It's just as well you should
be seen with me. They don't know yet that you are working for us, so
it will look less as if I were _en route_ for a meeting. But before we
start, have you decided to be wise and to save me from an unpleasant
duty?"
"Yes. I'll stay. At least while you are here."
"While I am here?" the man echoed. "Et alors--?"
"Then?" She threw out her arms in a hopeless gesture.
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