She shuddered.  But she did not speak; and he observed her in silence.

It was the first time that they were alone together since they had been separated by so many tragedies, and next hurled against each other like sworn enemies.  Don Luis was so greatly excited that, in the end, he could utter only insignificant sentences, having no connection with the thoughts that came rushing through his mind.

“We shall find the motor car if we follow this wall and then strike off to the left....  Do you think you can manage to walk so far? ...  When we’re in the car, we’ll go to Alencon.  There’s a quiet hotel close to the chief square.  You can wait there until things take a more favourable turn for you—­and that won’t be long, as the criminal is caught.”

“Let’s go,” she said.

He dared not offer to help her.  For that matter, she stepped out firmly and her graceful body swung from her hips with the same even rhythm as usual.  Don Luis once again felt all his old admiration and all his ardent love for her.  And yet that had never seemed more remote than at this moment when he had saved her life by untold miracles of energy.

She had not vouchsafed him a word of thanks nor yet one of those milder glances which reward an effort made; and she remained the same as on the first day, the mysterious creature whose secret soul he had never understood, and upon whom not even the storm of terrible events had cast the faintest light.

What were her thoughts?  What were her wishes?  What aim was she pursuing?  These were obscure problems which he could no longer hope to solve.  Henceforth each of them must go his own way in life and each of them could only remember the other with feelings of anger and spite.

“No!” he said to himself, as she took her place in the limousine.  “No!  The separation shall not take place like that.  The words that have to be spoken between us shall be spoken; and, whether she wishes or not, I will tear the veil that hides her.”

* * * * *

The journey did not take long.  At Alencon Don Luis entered Florence in the visitors’ book under the first name that occurred to him and left her to herself.  An hour later he came and knocked at her door.

This time again he had not the courage at once to ask her the question which he had made up his mind to put to her.  Besides, there were other points which he wished to clear up.

“Florence,” he said, “before I hand over that man, I should like to know what he was to you.”

“A friend, an unhappy friend, for whom I felt pity,” she declared.  “I find it difficult to-day to understand my compassion for such a monster.  But, some years ago, when I first met him, I became attached to him because of his wretchedness, his physical weakness, and all the symptoms of death which he bore upon him even then.  He had the opportunity of doing me a few services; and, though he led a hidden life, which worried me in certain respects, he gradually and without my knowing it acquired a considerable influence over me.