"One of us has got to die," he panted. With a finger crooked in his side-pocket, she measured her step with his, her senses still dizzy from the echo of the magic sounds. Yet through these talks, these meetings and conferences, these movements and efforts, Ann Veronica, for all that she went with her friend, and at times applauded with her enthusiastically, yet went nevertheless with eyes that grew more and more puzzled, and fine eyebrows more and more disposed to knit. "And you would surrender yourself —eh?" "I'll surrender myself at once, if you'll engage to bring him off; and you'll get the reward from old Wood. He resolved to judge for himself. She looked directly at his face, his perpetually graying hair, his hawkish nose, his long cheekbones. He embraced her small body in his arms, kissing her forehead over and over. She distinctly shivered as he forced her to look at him. If you received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with your written explanation. . And shall their wretched offspring live to blight my hopes, and blast my fame? Never!" And, with these words, he grasped Wood by the throat, and, despite his resistance, dragged him to the very verge of the platform. Do you know, Ann Veronica, it is all a lie about your birth certificate; a forgery—and fooling at that. Sir Rowland is one of us," he added, winking at his companions, "and so was his brother-in-law, Sir Cecil Trafford.
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