“You must hear me; the time is short,” Brand said, with decision.  “When this thing has to be done I don’t know; I shall probably hear to-morrow; but I must at once take steps to prevent shame falling on the few relatives I have.  I shall pretend to set out on some hunting-expedition or other—­Africa is a good big place for one to lose one’s self in—­and if I do not return, what then?  I shall leave you my executor, Evelyn; or, rather, it will be safer to do the whole thing by deed of gift.  I shall give my eldest sister’s son the Buckinghamshire place; then I must leave the other one something.  Five hundred pounds at four per cent, would pay that poor devil Kirski’s rent for him, and help him on a bit.  Then I am going to make you a present, Evelyn; so you see you shall benefit too.  Then as for Natalie—­or rather, her mother—­”

“Her mother!” Evelyn stared at him.

“Natalie’s mother is in London:  you will learn her story from herself,” Brand continued, briefly.  “In the mean time, do not tell Lind until she permits you.  I have taken rooms for her in Hans Place, and Natalie will no doubt go to see her each day; but I am afraid the poor lady is not very well off, for the family has always been in political troubles.  Well, you see, Evelyn, I could leave you a certain sum, the interest of which you could manage to convey to her in some roundabout and delicate way that would not hurt her pride.  You could do this, of course.”

“But you are talking as if your death was certain!” Lord Evelyn exclaimed, rather wildly.  “Even if it is all true, you might escape.”

Brand turned away his head as he spoke.

“Do you think, then,” he said, slowly, “that, even if that were possible, I should care to live red-handed?  The Council cannot demand that of me too.  If there is one bullet for him, the next one will be for myself; and if I miss the first shot I shall make sure about the second.  There will be no examination of the prisoner, as far as I am concerned.  I shall leave a paper stating the object and cause of my attempt; but I shall go into it nameless, and the happiest thing I can hope for is that forgetfulness will gather round it and me as speedily as may be.”

Lord Evelyn was deeply distressed.  He could no longer refuse to believe; and inadvertently he bethought himself of the time when he had besought and entreated this old friend of his to join the great movement that was to regenerate Europe.  Was this the end, then—­a vulgar crime?—­the strong, manly, generous life to be thrown away, and Natalie left broken-hearted?

“What about her?” he asked, timidly.

“About Natalie, do you mean?” said Brand, starting somewhat.  “Curiously enough, I was thinking about her also.  I was wondering whether it could be concealed from her—­whether it would not be better to let her imagine with the others that I had got drowned or killed somewhere.  But I could not do that.  The uncertainty would hang over her for years.  Better the sharp pain, at once—­of parting; then her mother must take charge of her and console her, and be kind to her.  What I fear most is that she may blame herself—­she may fancy that she is some how responsible—­”