m,
until, perceiving them, blankest surprise invaded his stern face.

In that moment, with a long shuddering sigh Aline sank swooning to the
carriage floor behind Mme. de Plougastel.

CHAPTER XI. INFERENCES

By fast driving Andre-Louis had reached the ground some minutes ahead
of time, notwithstanding the slight delay in setting out. There he
had found M. de La Tour d'Azyr already awaiting him, supported by a M.
d'Ormesson, a swarthy young gentleman in the blue uniform of a captain
in the Gardes du Corps.

Andre-Louis had been silent and preoccupied throughout that drive. He
was perturbed by his last interview with Mademoiselle de Kercadiou and
the rash inferences which he had drawn as to her motives.

"Decidedly," he had said, "this man must be killed."

Le Chapelier had not answered him. Almost, indeed, had the Breton
shuddered at his compatriot's cold-bloodedness. He had often of late
thought that this fellow Moreau was hardly human. Also he had found him
incomprehensibly inconsistent. When first this spadassinicide business
had been proposed to him, he had been so very lofty and disdainful. Yet,
having embraced it, he went about it at times with a ghoulish flippancy
that was revolting, at times with a detachment that was more revolting
still.

Their preparations were made quickly and in silence, yet without undue
haste or other sign of nervousness on either side. In both men the same
grim determination prevailed. The opponent must be killed; there could
be no half-measures here. Stripped each of coat and waistcoat, shoeless
and with shirt-sleeves rolled to the elbow, they faced each other at
last, with the common resolve of paying in full the long score that
stood between them. I doubt if either of them entertained a misgiving as
to what must be the issue.

Beside them, and opposite each other, stood Le Chapelier and the young
captain, alert and watchful.

"Allez, messieurs!"

The slender, wickedly delicate blades clashed together, and after a
momentary glizade were whirling, swift and bright as lightnings, and
almost as impossible to follow with the eye. The Marquis led the attack,
impetuously and vigorously, and almost at once Andre-Louis realized that
he had to deal with an opponent of a very different mettle from those
successive duellists of last week, not excluding La Motte-Royau, of
terrible reputation.

Here was a man whom much and constant practice had given extraordinary
speed and a