I am a
man in despair, the fugitive of a lost cause. That man holds the keys
of escape. And, besides, between him and me there is a reckoning to be
paid."

His hand came from beneath the coat at last, and it came armed with a
pistol.

Mme. de Plougastel screamed, and flung herself upon him. On her knees
now, she clung to his arm with all her strength and might.

Vainly he sought to shake himself free of that desperate clutch.

"Therese!" he cried. "Are you mad? Will you destroy me and yourself?
This creature has the safe-conducts that mean our salvation. Himself, he
is nothing."

From the background Aline, a breathless, horror-stricken spectator
of that scene, spoke sharply, her quick mind pointing out the line of
checkmate.

"Burn the safe-conducts, Andre-Louis. Burn them at once--in the candles
there."

But Andre-Louis had taken advantage of that moment of M. de La Tour
d'Azyr's impotence to draw a pistol in his turn. "I think it will be
better to burn his brains instead," he said. "Stand away from him,
madame."

Far from obeying that imperious command, Mme. de Plougastel rose to her
feet to cover the Marquis with her body. But she still clung to his arm,
clung to it with unsuspected strength that continued to prevent him from
attempting to use the pistol.

"Andre! For God's sake, Andre!" she panted hoarsely over her shoulder.

"Stand away, madame," he commanded her again, more sternly, "and let
this murderer take his due. He is jeopardizing all our lives, and his
own has been forfeit these years. Stand away!" He sprang forward with
intent now to fire at his enemy over her shoulder, and Aline moved too
late to hinder him.

"Andre! Andre!"

Panting, gasping, haggard of face, on the verge almost of hysteria,
the distracted Countess flung at last an effective, a terrible barrier
between the hatred of those men, each intent upon taking the other's
life.

"He is your father, Andre! Gervais, he is your son--our son! The letter
there... on the table... O my God!" And she slipped nervelessly to the
ground, and crouched there sobbing at the feet of M. de La Tour d'Azyr.

CHAPTER XV. SAFE-CONDUCT

Across the body of that convulsively sobbing woman, the mother of one
and the mistress of the other, the eyes of those mortal enemies met,
invested with a startled, appalled interest that admitted of no words.

Beyond the table, as if turned to stone by this culminating horror of
revelation, stood Aline.