But Coira O’Hara shook her head, saying:  “I didn’t mean that.  I’m afraid of what will happen when he finds out how he has been—­how we have been played upon, tricked, deceived—­what a light we have been placed in.  You don’t know, you can’t even imagine, how he has set his heart on—­what he wished to occur.  I am afraid he will do something terrible when he knows.  I am afraid he will kill Captain Stewart.”

“Which,” observed Ste. Marie, “would be an excellent solution of the problem.  But of course we mustn’t let it happen.  What can be done?”

“We mustn’t let him know the truth,” said the girl, “until Arthur is gone and until Captain Stewart is gone, too.  He is terrible when he’s angry.  We must keep the truth from him until he can do no harm.  It will be bad enough even then, for I think it will break his heart.”

Ste. Marie remembered that there was something she did not know, and he told her about his interview with Richard Hartley and about their arrangement for the rescue—­if it should be necessary—­on that very night.

She nodded her head over it, but for a long time after he had finished she did not speak.  Then she said:  “I am glad, I suppose.  Yes, since it has to be done, I suppose I am glad that it is to come at once.”  She looked up at Ste. Marie with shadowy, inscrutable eyes.  “And so, Monsieur,” said she, “it is at an end—­all this.”  She made a little gesture which seemed to sweep the park and gardens.  “So we go out of each other’s lives as abruptly as we entered them.  Well—­” She had continued to look at him, but she saw the man’s face turn white, and she saw something come into his eyes which was like intolerable pain; then she looked away.

Ste. Marie said her name twice, under his breath, in a sort of soundless cry, but he said no more, and after a moment she went on: 

“Even so, I am glad that at last we know each other—­for what we are....  I should have been sorry to go on thinking you ... what I thought before....  And I could not have borne it, I’m afraid, to have you think ... what you thought of me ... when I came to know....  I’m glad we understand at last.”

Ste. Marie tried to speak, but no words would come to him.  He was like a man defeated and crushed, not one on the high-road to victory.  But it may have been that the look of him was more eloquent than anything he could have said.  And it may have been that the girl saw and understood.

So the two remained there for a little while longer in silence, but at last Coira O’Hara said: 

“I must go back to the house now.  There is nothing more to be done, I suppose—­nothing left now but to wait for night to come.  I shall see Arthur this afternoon and make one last appeal to him.  If that fails you must carry him off.  Do you know where he sleeps?  It is the room corresponding to yours on the other side of the house—­just across that wide landing at the top of the stairs.  I will manage that the front door below shall be left unlocked.  The rest you and your friends must do.  If I can make any impression upon Arthur I’ll slip a note under your door this afternoon or this evening.  Perhaps, even if he decides to go, it would be best for him to wait until night and go with the rest of you.  In any case, I’ll let you know.”