hen handed it to her, and regarded her
face intently as she read it.

"Read this, Madame, and see how careless you have been."

And my lady read the note; she, too, read it again, the first reading
not sufficing her to understand. Then she looked at her husband with
great wide-open eyes; she was now calm, and as quiet as he.

"Truly, Charles, I know nothing of this."

"It was always said, Madame, at Sceaux, you could take the stage and
play the parts of distressed and virtuous damosels," he answered her,
coldly curling his lip.

"Tell me, Madame, as you value your soul, what is this Captain de
Mouret to you?"

"As I value my soul," my lady answered him direct and steadily, looking
straight into his eye, her own hands folded across her heaving breast.
"As I value my soul, Charles, I know nothing of him."

"What does he mean when he says here 'I was hasty and too impulsive
when we parted in the chapel at Sceaux'?"

"Upon my honor, Charles, I do not know. I never saw the man in all my
life--to know him."

"Upon your _honor_," the Chevalier repeated.

And my lady's cheek flushed fire. But her form straightened up, and
her eyes met his unflinching, without guilt or fear. The Chevalier
turned and caught sight of Jacques, for the lout, according to his
story, had grown to the spot as firm as one of the oaks.

"Here, you fellow, come here, _come here_!"

And Jacques dared not disobey him.

"Here, fellow, how many notes like this have you brought to my wife?"

"Only that one, my lord." Jacques started in by telling the truth, and
he followed it up religiously. According to his account of it, the
Chevalier looked him straight through and through until he dared not
tell a lie.

"Mind that you tell me the truth. Who gave you this note?"

"Captain de Mouret."

"When?"

"Last night."

"Where?"

"At his quarters."

"To whom did he say you should deliver it?"

"To Madame Agnes de la Mora."

The Chevalier stooped, picked up the envelope, and re-read the
superscription, handing it over to my lady, who took it unseeing.

"Did he expect a reply?"

"Yes, my lord."

"And where did he say to bring it?"

"Bring it to him when he returned from across the Bay this afternoon.
I was to await him upon the shore."

"At what hour?"

"None was named, my Lord; he said it would be late, perchance."

Verily, as Jacques told it me, he must have drained the stupid fellow
dry.

Then the Chevalier turned to