his letter," she said, "in case he ever asked for more. But
it doesn't matter now--nothing will ever matter any more. You know the
worst, and"--fiercely--"you are welcome to know it. I--I'm even glad!
I've nothing left to be afraid of."

She drew in her breath hysterically. She was on the verge of dreadful
laughter, but she caught it back, instinctively aware that she must keep
her strength--this unwonted strength of desperation that had come
to her--as long as possible.

He heard her without emotion. His face was grim and mask-like, frozen
into hard, unyielding lines.

"It is certainly best that I should know it," he said. "But I have not
yet heard all. How much did this Rodolphe charge for his silence?"

She had almost answered him before she remembered, and checked the words
upon her lips. "No, I don't think I need tell you that," she said.

"That is better than telling me a lie," he rejoined. "As a matter of
fact, there is no need, as you say, for you to tell me. I know what sum
he asked for, and I know how he obtained it."

He spoke with steady conviction, his eyes unwaveringly upon her. For
seconds now she had endured his look without flinching. As she had said,
there was nothing left for her to fear. But at his words her face
changed, and unmistakable apprehension took the place of despair.

"No, no!" she said quickly. "He did not obtain it in that way. At
least--at least--Trevor, I swear to you that Bertrand knew nothing of
that."

"You need not take that trouble," he said coldly.

She gripped her hands together. "You don't believe me--but it is the
truth. Bertrand never knew that I had heard from Captain Rodolphe."

"You deceived him too, then?" Pitilessly he asked the question. He also
had begun to feel that nothing could ever matter any more.

She wrung her hands in anguish. Her face was still raised to his, white
and strained and desperate--the face of a woman who would never dissemble
with him again. "Yes," she said, "I deceived him too."

"Then"--slowly he uttered the words--"it was you who forged my name upon
that cheque? It actually was you whom he was shielding? And you tell me
that he did not know what it was for?"

"He did not know," she said. She would not have given such an explanation
of her own volition at that moment, but--since upon this point she could
not tell him the truth--it was simpler to let it pass. What did it
matter, after all? Let him think her a thief also if he would!