nding
near it with blanched faces.

'You had better take your sister upstairs, Mademoiselle,' I said gently,
pausing a moment beside them. 'Have no fear. All will be well.'

But what is it?' she answered, looking troubled. 'It was so sudden. I
am--I did not understand. You quarrelled so quickly.'

'It is very simple,' I answered, smiling. 'M. le Capitaine insulted you
yesterday; he will pay for it to-day. That is all. Or, not quite all,'
I continued, dropping my voice and speaking in a different tone. 'His
removal may help you, Mademoiselle. Do you understand? I think that
there will be no more searching to-day.' She uttered an exclamation,
grasping my arm and peering into my face.

'You will kill him?' she muttered.

I nodded.

'Why not?' I said.

She caught her breath, and stood with one hand clasped to her bosom,
gazing at me with parted lips, the blood mounting to her checks.
Gradually the flush melted into a fierce smile.

'Yes, yes, why not?' she repeated between her teeth. 'Why not?' She had
her hand on my arm, and I felt her fingers tighten until I could have
winced. 'Why not? So you planned this--for us, Monsieur?'

I nodded.

'But can you?'

'Safely,' I said; then, muttering to her to take her sister upstairs, I
turned towards the garden. My foot was already on the threshold, and I
was composing my face to meet the enemy, when I heard a movement behind
me. The next moment her hand was on my arm.

'Wait! Wait a moment! Come back!' she panted. I turned. The smile and
flush had vanished; her face was pale. 'No!' she said abruptly. 'I was
wrong! I, will not have it. I will have no part in it! You planned it
last night, M. de Barthe. It is murder.'

'Mademoiselle!' I exclaimed, wondering. 'Murder? Why? It is a duel.'

'It is murder,' she answered persistently. 'You planned it last night.
You said so.'

'But I risk my own life,' I replied sharply.

'Nevertheless--I will have no part in it,' she answered more faintly.
She was trembling with agitation. Her eyes avoided mine.

'On my shoulders be it then!' I replied stoutly. 'It is too late,
Mademoiselle, to go back. They are waiting for me. Only, before I go,
let me beg of you to retire.'

And I turned from her, and went out, wondering and thinking. First,
that women were strange things. Secondly--MURDER? Merely because I had
planned the duel and provoked the quarrel! Never had I heard anything so
preposterous. Grant it, and dub every man who k