“Who? What did you say? Who is this man?”
“I don’t know his name; she wouldn’t tell me,” replied the suspicious captain. “What does it matter to me who he is?”
“Do I know the girl?”
“Yes. I don’t mind telling you, old man; it’s my cousin Victoria.”
“What!” The word burst from Hammond like a bullet. His eyes sought the curtain. “Are all women traitors?” he cried.
And striding to the curtains, he dragged them back. There in the light of the moon stood the two who had overheard every word. The marquis had his arm round Belle’s neck, and her face was hidden in her father’s breast.
“It is true!” gasped Hammond.
A tremendous silence followed. How long it lasted none of the four could tell. At length the marquis broke it.
“Well, sir?” he said, looking Hammond full in the face with a certain dignity for which the other had not been prepared.
“I beg your pardon, marquis. I was told that you and this lady were strangers, and I believed it, like a fool.”