He nodded.
"It's so far true that she's had a great row with Michael," said he, thoughtfully.
"If she would, she could be useful," I said.
"I believe, though, that Michael wrote that letter." "So do I, but I mean to know for certain.

I shall go, Sapt." "No, I shall go," said he.
"You may go as far as the gate." "I shall go to the summer-house." "I'm hanged if you shall!" I rose and leant my back against the mantelpiece.
"Sapt, I believe in that woman, and I shall go." "I don't believe in any woman," said Sapt, "and you shan't go." "I either go to the summer-house or back to England," said I.
Sapt began to know exactly how far he could lead or drive, and when he must follow.
"We're playing against time," I added.

"Every day we leave the King where he is there is fresh risk.

Every day I masquerade like this, there is fresh risk.

Sapt, we must play high; we must force the game." "So be it," he said, with a sigh.
To cut the story short, at half-past eleven that night Sapt and I mounted our horses.