Commerce. Do you see those short pointed towers?
That is it."

"Is it still used as a prison?" continued the visitor with a strange
insistence.

"Why, yes," stammered the girl, "I think so--that is, the depot is part of
the _conciergerie_ or just adjoins it."

"What is the depot?" questioned the other, eying Alice steadily.

The girl flushed. "Why do you ask me that? Why do you look at me so?"

The lady stepped closer, and speaking low: "Because I know who you are, I
know _why_ you are thinking about that prison."

Alice stared at her with widening eyes and heaving bosom. The woman's tone
was kind, her look almost appealing, yet the girl drew back, guided by an
instinct of danger.

"Who are you?" she demanded.

"Don't you _know_ who I am?" answered the other, and now her emotion broke
through the mask of calm. "I am the lady who--who called for M. Kittredge
last night."

"Oh!" burst out Alice scornfully. "A lady! You call yourself a _lady!_"

"Call me anything you like but----"

"I don't wish to speak to you; it's an outrage your coming here; I--I'm
going down." And she started for the stairs.

"Wait!" cried the visitor. "You _shall_ hear me. I have come to help the
man you love."

"The man _you_ love," blazed the girl. "The man whose life you have
ruined."

"It's true I--I loved him," murmured the other.

"What _right_ had you to love him, you a married woman?"

The lady caught her breath with a little gasp and her hands shut tight.

"He told you that?"

[Illustration: "'I know _why_ you are thinking about that prison.'"]

"Yes, because he was forced to--the thing was known. Don't be afraid, he
didn't tell your name, he _never_ would tell it. But I know enough, I
know that you tortured him and--when he got free from you, after struggling
and--starving and----"

"Starving?"

"Yes, starving. After all that, when he was just getting a little happy,
_you_ had to come again, and--and now he's _there_."

She looked fixedly at the prison, then with angry fires flashing in her
dark eyes: "I hate you, I _hate_ you," she cried.

In spite of her growing emotion the lady forced herself to speak calmly:
"Hate me if you will, but _hear_ me."

"No," went on Alice fiercely, "_you_ shall hear _me_. You have done this
wicked, shameless thing, and now you come to me, think of that, _to me!_
You must be mad. Anyhow, you are here and you shall tell me what I want to
know."

"What do you want to know?" trem