In a tone unexpectedly humble the woman said:  “I had no idea you cared very much what I did or how I carried on.  After all, it was your own fault.”

“Mine?” The Count laughed in derision and astonishment.

“Exactly!  If you had taken the trouble to show me that you cared—­ well, things might have been different.  However—­” The Countess rose, and with another change of voice and manner said:  “Come along.  Let’s do something for your eye.”

The Count stared at her in bewilderment, then he turned away, crying:  “Bah!  I want no help.”  At the door he paused to jeer once more.  “Pierce Phillips!  A common thief, a despicable creature who robs the very man he had most deeply injured.  I’ve exposed him to the law and to public scorn.  Sleep on that, my dear.  Dream on it.”  With a chuckle he traced an uncertain course to the stairs, mounted them to his room, and slammed his door behind him.

He had undressed and flung himself into bed, but he had not yet fallen asleep when the door reopened and his wife entered, bearing in her hand a steaming pitcher of hot water.  This she deposited; into it she dipped a folded towel.

“I’m sorry you’re disfigured, Henri,” she told him, quietly.

Despite his surly protests, she bathed and soothed his swollen features until he dropped asleep, after which she stole out and down to her room on the floor below.  There, however, she paused, staring back up the empty stairway, a look of deepest loathing upon her face.  Slowly, carefully, she wiped her hands as if they were unclean; her lips curled into a mirthless smile; then she passed into her chamber and turned the key behind her.

Rock had spoken truly in assuring ‘Poleon that Pierce Phillips’ lot would be made as easy for him as possible.  That is what happened.  No one at the Barracks appeared to take much stock in Courteau’s charge, and even Colonel Cavendish, the commandant, took the trouble to send for him early the next morning and to ask for the whole story in detail.  When Pierce had given it the officer nodded.  “It looks very much like a spite case.  I couldn’t imagine your doing such a thing, my boy.”

“It is a spite case, nothing else.”

“Courteau is a rotter, and your affair with his wife explains his animosity.”

“It wasn’t exactly an ‘affair,’ sir.”  Pierce colored slightly as he went on to explain.  “You see, I was perfectly honest.  I didn’t know there was a count, and when I learned there was I up stakes and ended it.  She was the first woman who ever—­Well, sir, I admired her tremendously.  She—­impressed me wonderfully.”

“No doubt,” the colonel smiled.  “She’s an impressive person.  Are you still fond of her?”

“Not in the same way.”

“What about this girl Laure?”

This time Pierce flushed uncomfortably.  “I’ve no excuses to offer there, sir—­no explanations.  We—­just drifted together.  It was a long trip and the Yukon does that sort of thing.  Force of circumstance as much as anything, I presume.  I’ve been trying to break away, but—­” he shrugged.