own coarse passions? It seems there did, for all he answered was
"You know the price, child."

"And God pity me! I must pay it. I must, for if he dies I shall have
his blood upon my conscience!" Then she checked her grief, and her voice
grew almost stern in the restraint she set upon herself. "If I give you
my promise to wed you hereafter--say in six months' time--what proof
will you afford me that he who is detained under the name of Lesperon
shall go free?"

I caught the sound of something very like a gasp from the Count.

"Remain in Toulouse until to-morrow, and to-night ere he departs he
shall come to take his leave of you. Are you content?"

"Be it so, monsieur," she answered.

Then at last I leapt to my feet. I could endure no more. You may marvel
that I had had the heart to endure so much, and to have so let her
suffer that I might satisfy myself how far this scoundrel Chatellerault
would drive his trickster's bargain.

A more impetuous man would have beaten down the partition, or shouted
to her through it the consolation that Chatellerault's bargain was no
bargain at all, since I was already at large. And that is where a more
impetuous man would have acted upon instinct more wisely than did I upon
reason. Instead, I opened the door, and, crossing the common room, I
flung myself down a passage that I thought must lead to the chamber in
which they were closeted. But in this I was at fault, and ere I had come
upon a waiter and been redirected some precious moments were lost.
He led me back through the common room to a door opening upon another
corridor. He pushed it wide, and I came suddenly face to face with
Chatellerault, still flushed from his recent contest.

"You here!" he gasped, his jaw falling, and his cheeks turning pale,
as well they might; for all that he could not dream I had overheard his
bargaining.

"We will go back, if you please, Monsieur le Comte." said I.

"Back where?" he asked stupidly.

"Back to Mademoiselle. Back to the room you have just quitted." And none
too gently I pushed him into the corridor again, and so, in the gloom, I
missed the expression of his face.

"She is not there," said he.

I laughed shortly.

"Nevertheless, we will go back," I insisted.

And so I had my way, and we gained the room where his infamous traffic
had been held. Yet for once he spoke the truth. She was no longer there.

"Where is she?" I demanded angrily.

"Gone," he answered; and when I prot