to the inn at Torins. But if I had told you all that, oh, by Jove,
how you would have fretted about my fatigue! Why, I can picture you
doing so, my poor Marthe!"

He pretended to be gay and careless. Marthe watched him in astonishment.
She nodded her head with a thoughtful air:

"Yes ... you are right...."

"Don't you think so? It was much simpler to tell you that I had just
left my room, feeling fit and well, after a good night's rest.... Don't
you agree with me, mother?... Besides, you yourself ..."

But, at that moment, a sound of voices rose under the windows on the
garden-side and Catherine burst into the room, yelling:

"The master! The master!"

And Victor also bounded in:

"Here's the master coming! There he is!"

"Who? Who?" asked Mme. Morestal, hastening forward.

"M. Morestal! There he is! We saw him at the end of the garden.... Look,
over there, near the water-fall...."

The old lady ran to one of the windows:

"Yes! He has seen us! O God, is it possible?"

Staggering with excitement, she leant heavily on Marthe's arm and
dragged her to the staircase that led to the front hall and the steps.

They had hardly disappeared when Suzanne flung herself upon Philippe:

"Oh, please, Philippe ... please!" she implored.

He did not understand at first:

"What is it, Suzanne?"

"Please, please be careful. Don't let Marthe suspect...."

"Do you think ...?"

"I thought so, for a second.... She gave me such a queer look.... Oh, it
would be terrible!... Please, please ..."

She left him quickly, but her words and the scared look in her eyes gave
Philippe a real fright. Hitherto, he had felt towards Marthe only the
embarrassment provoked by the annoyance of having to tell a lie. He now
suddenly perceived the full gravity of the situation, the peril which
threatened Suzanne and which might shatter the happiness of his own
household. One blunder ... and everything was discovered. And this
thought, instead of clearing his brain forthwith, merely increased his
confusion.

"I must save Suzanne," he repeated. "Above all, I must save Suzanne."

But he felt that he had no more power over the events at hand than a man
has over the approaching storm. And a dull fear arose within his breast.

CHAPTER III

FATHER AND SON

Bare-headed, tangle-haired, his clothes torn, no collar, blood on his
shirt, on his hands, on his face, blood everywhere, a wound in his neck,
another on his lip, unrecognizabl