ort not to flinch before him, not to let him see for a moment
that she was afraid.

She compelled her eyes to look at him fully and squarely, her lips not
to tremble, her very heart to stop its wild, excited beating. She felt
his keen eyes fixed intently upon her, but more in curiosity than in
hatred or satisfied vengeance.

When she had sat down he came round the table and moved towards her.
When he drew quite near, she instinctively recoiled. It had been an
almost imperceptible action on her part and certainly an involuntary
one, for she did not wish to betray a single thought or emotion, until
she knew what he wished to say.

But he had noted her movement--a sort of drawing up and stiffening of
her whole person as he approached. He seemed pleased to see it, for
he smiled sarcastically but with evident satisfaction, and--as if his
purpose was now accomplished--he immediately withdrew and went back to
his former seat on the other side of the table. After that he ordered
the soldiers to go.

"But remain at attention outside, you and your men," he added, "ready to
enter if I call."

It was Marguerite's turn to smile at this obvious sign of a lurking fear
on Chauvelin's part, and a line of sarcasm and contempt curled her full
lips.

The soldiers having obeyed and the oak door having closed upon them,
Marguerite was now alone with the man whom she hated and loathed beyond
every living thing on earth.

She wondered when he would begin to speak and why he had sent for her.
But he seemed in no hurry to begin. Still shading his face with his
hand, he was watching her with utmost attention: she, on the other hand,
was looking through and beyond him, with contemptuous indifference, as
if his presence here did not interest her in the least.

She would give him no opening for this conversation which he had
sought and which she felt would prove either purposeless or else deeply
wounding to her heart and to her pride. She sat, therefore, quite still
with the flickering and yellow light fully illumining her delicate face,
with its child-like curves, and delicate features, the noble, straight
brow, the great blue eyes and halo of golden hair.

"My desire to see you here to-night, must seem strange to you, Lady
Blakeney," said Chauvelin at last.

Then, as she did not reply, he continued, speaking quite gently, almost
deferentially:

"There are various matters of grave importance, which the events of the
next twenty-four