“It isn’t only the dance,” she said. Fancying they were alone, Sir Rowland threw aside his cloak, and produced a heavy bag of money, which he flung upon the table; and, when Wild had feasted his greedy eyes sufficiently upon its golden contents, he handed him a pocketbook filled with notes. “It is not an easy matter,” he said, “for me to offer you an altogether adequate explanation. Now then," he added more calmly, "I am ready to die. “Suppose you call me by my proper name,” she said quietly. The red glare fell upon the slimy brick-work, and tinged the inky waters below.
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