ern it, without
adding to my shame by your insolent call upon my courtesy?"

Her words cut me as no words that I ever heard, and, more than her
words, her tone of loathing and disgust unspeakable. For half that
speech I should have killed a man--indeed, I had killed men for less
than half. And yet, for all the passion that raged in my soul, I
preserved upon my countenance a smiling mask. That smile exhausted her
patience and increased her loathing, for with a contemptuous exclamation
she turned away.

"Tarry but a moment, Mademoiselle," I cried, with a sudden note of
command. "Or, if you will go, go then; but take with you my assurance
that before nightfall you will weep bitterly for it."

My words arrested her. The mystery of them awakened her curiosity.

"You speak in riddles, Monsieur."

"Like a true wizard, Mademoiselle. You received a letter this morning in
a handwriting unknown, and bearing no signature."

She wheeled round and faced me again with a little gasp of astonishment.

"How know you that? Ah! I understand; you wrote it!"

"What shrewdness, Mademoiselle!" I laughed, ironically. "Come; think
again. What need have I to bid you meet me in the coppice yonder? May I
not speak freely with you here?"

"You know the purport of that letter?"

"I do, Mademoiselle, and I know more. I know that this hinted conspiracy
against your father is a trumped-up lie to lure you to the coppice."

"And for what purpose, pray?"

"An evil one,--your abduction. Shall I tell you who penned that note,
and who awaits you? The Marquis Cesar de St. Auban."

She shuddered as I pronounced the name, then, looking me straight
between the eyes--"How come you to know these things?" she inquired.

"What does it signify, since I know them?"

"This, Monsieur, that unless I learn how, I can attach no credit to your
preposterous story."

"Not credit it!" I cried. "Let me assure you that I have spoken the
truth; let me swear it. Go to the coppice at the appointed time, and
things will fall out as I have predicted."

"Again, Monsieur, how know you this?" she persisted, as women will.

"I may not tell you."

We stood close together, and her clear grey eyes met mine, her lip
curling in disdain.

"You may not tell me? You need not. I can guess." And she tossed her
shapely head and laughed. "Seek some likelier story, Monsieur. Had you
not spoken of it, 't is likely I should have left the letter unheeded.
But your disinterested w