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t of your return," answered La Pommeraye. "I had no opportunity to tell him. He thinks you perished on the island." "But you will tell him to-night?" "I have been thinking of a plan," said Charles. "Would it not be well for you to wait within the Church of the Innocents, where I am to meet him, while I warn him of your return, and prepare him to meet you?" Marguerite grasped at the idea. She dreaded, above all things, another quarrel between La Pommeraye and her uncle; and her presence would be a safeguard against bloodshed. As she prepared to accompany Charles, her thoughts went back to that other evening--nearly five years before--when she had been present at an encounter between these same two men. The object she now had in view was the same--to save her uncle's life; but the circumstances--how different! Could the veil have been lifted from the future on that first meeting, would she not have been tempted to leave him to the mercy of his enemy's sword? And now she was accompanying that enemy--who had proved himself her friend when she had no other in all the world--to keep him from avenging her wrongs upon the man who should have been her natural protector. Her brain swam as these thoughts crowded upon her; and she was glad to take refuge in the dimly-lighted church, and to quiet her distracted spirit in silent prayer before the altar. La Pommeraye, outside, paced up and down, awaiting De Roberval's arrival. His hand was on his sword-hilt, and his watchful eye kept a sharp look-out on all sides; for in spite of the nobleman's parting words to him in the afternoon, he had already had but too good reason to suspect him of treachery. And in fact, De Roberval had resolved within himself to add yet one more brutal deed to the long list which had ruined his life, and changed him from a gentleman and a man of honour to a bully, a coward, and an assassin. La Pommeraye had returned to France. He had but to open his lips, and De Roberval's life was at his mercy. Nor could the nobleman recover from the stinging indignity and humiliation which Charles had put upon him at their last meeting. From first to last, he had owed him a bitter grudge--all the more bitter, because, in a moment of cowardice, he had taken advantage of the noble fellow's generosity to shield himself from defeat and dishonour. No, there was no alternative; La Pommeraye must die; and with that death all evidence of his crimes would be removed. He ha
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