"What do you mean?" she cried, standing up and clutching his arm.
"Never mind." His tone was cool again. "Just go back."
"You would not" she began.
"I never broke my word in my life, and even now I'm not going to begin. While you live I stay silent."
In the growing light Naîda looked about her affrightedly. Then, throwing her arms impulsively around Brinn, she kissed him—a caress that was passionate but sexless; rather the kiss of a mother who parts with a beloved son than that which a woman bestows upon the man she loves; an act of renunciation.
He uttered a low cry and would have seized her in his arms but, lithely evading him, she turned, stifling a sob, and darted away through the trees toward the house.
For long he stood looking after her, fists clenched and his face very gray in the morning light. Some small inner voice told him that his new plan, and the others which he had built upon it, must crumble and fall as a castle of sand. He groaned and, turning aside, made his way through the shrubbery to the highroad.
He was become accessory to a murder; for he had learned for what reason and by what means Sir Charles Abingdon had been assassinated. He had
