She had forgotten to tremble, and though still tense-strung in
every fibre was able to sit still, look steadily into the face of peril,
and calculate her chances of cheating it.
Presently, in a tone so even it won begrudged admiration, she asked:
"Where are you taking me?"
"Do you really care?"
"Enough to ask."
"But why should I tell you?"
"No reason. I presume it doesn't really matter, I'll know soon enough."
"Then I don't mind enlightening you. We're bound for the Continent by way
of Limehouse. A launch is waiting for us in Limehouse Reach, a yacht off
Gravesend. Oh, I have forgotten nothing! By daybreak we'll be at sea."
"We?"
"You and I."
"You deceive yourself, Prince Victor. I shan't accompany you."
"How amusing! And is it a secret, how you propose to stand against my
will?"
Sofia was silent for a little; then, "I can kill myself," she said,
quietly.
"To be sure you can! And when I tire of you, perhaps I'll humour your
morbid inclinations--if they still exist."
"You are a fool," Sofia returned, bluntly, "if you think I shall go aboard
that yacht alive."
"Brava!" Victor laughed, and clapped his hands. "Brava! brava!"
He sat up for another look out of the rear window, sucked at his breath
even more sharply than before, and snatching up the speaking-tube
pronounced urgent words in Chinese.
The head of the chauffeur, in stark silhouette against the leading glow,
bent toward the tube, and nodded rapidly. And to the deep-throated roar of
an unmuffled exhaust, the heavy car leaped, like a spirited animal stung by
whip and spur, and settled into a stride to which what had gone before was
as a preliminary canter to the heartbreaking drive down to the
home-stretch.
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