een his
friend like this, with that repugnant face, that bestial expression:
yes, the expression of a wild beast... Daubrecq ground his teeth. He
stamped his feet. His bloodshot eyes--he did not wear spectacles in
those days--rolled in their sockets; and he kept on saying, 'I shall be
revenged ... I shall be revenged... Oh, you don't know what I am capable
of!... I shall wait ten years, twenty years, if necessary... But it will
come like a thunderbolt... Ah, you don't know!... To be revenged... To
do harm... for harm's sake... what joy! I was born to do harm... And you
will both beseech my mercy on your knees, on your knees, yes, on your
knees...' At that moment, my father entered the room; and, with his
assistance and the footman's, Victorien Mergy flung the loathsome
creature out of doors. Six weeks later, I married Victorien."

"And Daubrecq?" asked Lupin, interrupting her. "Did he not try..."

"No, but on our wedding-day, Louis Prasville, who acted as my husband's
best man in defiance of Danbrecq's opposition, went home to find the
girl he loved, the opera-singer, dead, strangled..."

"What!" said Lupin, with a start. "Had Daubrecq..."

"It was known that Daubrecq had been persecuting her with his attentions
for some days; but nothing more was known. It was impossible to discover
who had gone in or out during Prasville's absence. There was not a trace
found of any kind: nothing, absolutely nothing."

"But Prasville..."

"There was no doubt of the truth in Prasville's mind or ours. Daubrecq
had tried to run away with the girl, perhaps tried to force her, to
hustle her and, in the course of the struggle, maddened, losing his
head, caught her by the throat and killed her, perhaps without knowing
what he was doing. But there was no evidence of all this; and Daubrecq
was not even molested."

"And what became of him next?"

"For some years we heard nothing of him. We knew only that he had lost
all his money gambling and that he was travelling in America. And, in
spite of myself, I forgot his anger and his threats and was only too
ready to believe that he had ceased to love me and no longer harboured
his schemes of revenge. Besides, I was so happy that I did not care
to think of anything but my happiness, my love, my husband's political
career, the health of my son Antoine."

"Antoine?"

"Yes, Antoine is Gilbert's real name. The unhappy boy has at least
succeeded in concealing his identity."

Lupin asked, wit