s score is settled--and so is
his young lady's. They can choose between the bullets in my revolver and
the handcuffs of the police."

He had ceased to think of his motor standing ready below. He no longer
dreamt of flight with Florence. If he did not kill the two of them, the
law would lay its hand upon them, the hand that does not let go. And
perhaps it was better so, that society itself should punish the two
criminals whom he was about to hand over to it.

He shut the door, pushed the bolt, faced his two prisoners again and,
taking a chair, said to Sauverand:

"Let us talk."

Owing to the narrow dimensions of the room they were all so close
together that Don Luis felt as if he were almost touching the man whom he
loathed from the very bottom of his heart. Their two chairs were hardly a
yard asunder. A long table, covered with books, stood between them and
the windows, which, hollowed out of the very thick wall, formed a recess,
as is usual in old houses.

Florence had turned her chair away from the light, and Don Luis could not
see her face clearly. But he looked straight into Gaston Sauverand's face
and watched it with eager curiosity; and his anger was heightened by the
sight of the still youthful features, the expressive mouth, and the
intelligent eyes, which were fine in spite of their hardness.

"Well? Speak!" said Don Luis, in a commanding tone. "I have agreed to a
truce, but a momentary truce, just long enough to say what is necessary.
Are you afraid now that the time has arrived? Do you regret the step
which you have taken?"

The man smiled calmly and said:

"I am afraid of nothing, and I do not regret coming, for I have a very
strong intuition that we can, that we are bound to, come to an
understanding."

"An understanding!" protested Don Luis with a start.

"Why not?"

"A compact! An alliance between you and me!"

"Why not? It is a thought which I had already entertained more than once,
which took a more precise shape in the magistrates' corridor, and which
finally decided me when I read the announcement which you caused to be
made in the special edition of this paper: 'Sensational declaration by
Don Luis Perenna. Mme. Fauville is innocent!'"

Gaston Sauverand half rose from his chair and, carefully picking his
words, emphasizing them with sharp gestures, he whispered:

"Everything lies, Monsieur, in those four words. Do those four words
which you have written, which you have uttered public