present. This house is the only safe place for you to-night. While you are here, you are Freda Michel. The moment you pass my door you are Margaret Schiller, who has been found out and is making a bolt for it.
Margaret.
[After another moment, breaking into wild laughter.]
So that's how it is, is it? I'm a prisoner in a cell,
unable to escape at either end of it. Very well, do
what you like with me. Do what you like with all
of us. It can't be worse than what you did with
my father when you said in Parliament he had eaten
your bread—your country's bread—and you thought
you had bought his soul with it. My miserable
country! What about yours—that robs children of
their fathers, and leaves them to beggary, though
they are as innocent as your own child in her cot
upstairs. Yes, do what you like. It will only be
a quicker death. You killed my father—kill his
daughter also. Do you think I shall be afraid?
Sir Robert.
I am not called upon to defend myself against
your accusations, my girl. But, since you speak of
your father again, and may have acted from a
personal rather than a quasi-patriotic impulse, would
it surprise you to learn that I had nothing to do with
your father's case except to save him from the
gallows?
Margaret.
[With a gasp.] Eh?
