"A plan?"

"A dark conspiracy"--

"Is the spirit of Lucretia Borgia present?"

--"in which you are to be chief conspirator, Mr. Lynde."

"Miss Denham, the person is dead, either by steel or poison; it is all
one to me--I am equally familiar with both methods."

As the girl lifted up her eyes in a half-serious, half-amused way, and
gave him a look in which gentleness and a certain shadow of hauteur were
oddly blended, Lynde started in spite of himself. It was the very look
of the poor little Queen of Sheba.

"With your bowl and dagger and monody," said Miss Denham, breaking into
one of her rare laughs, "you are in full tragedy this afternoon. I am
afraid my innocent plot will seem very tame to you in the face of such
dreadful things."

"I promise beforehand to regard it as the one important matter in the
world. What is it?"

"Nothing more than this: I want you to insist that aunt Gertrude and I
ought to make the ascent of Montanvert and visit the Mer de Glace--
before uncle Denham arrives."

"Why, would he object?"