"No, indeed, Gautran! I also have business with him. And strangely enough, you, whom I met in the flesh for the first time within these last twenty-four hours, are indirectly concerned in it."
"Am I? Strange enough, as you say. But it will not matter after to-night."
Some hidden meaning in Gautran's tone struck warningly upon John Vanbrugh, and caused him to bestow a clearer observance upon Gautran's movements from this moment.
"There is a thing I wish to know, Gautran," he said. "Between vagabonds like ourselves there is no need for concealment. It is a delicate question, but you have been so frank with me that I will venture to ask it. Besides, there are no witnesses, and you will not, therefore, incriminate yourself. This girl, Madeline, whose spirit follows you----"
Vanbrugh hesitated. The question he was about to ask trembled on his lips, and he scarcely knew how to give it shape in words that would not provoke an outbreak on the part of Gautran. He had no desire to come into open collision with this ruffian, of whose designs upon himself he was inwardly warned. Gautran, with brutal recklessness, assisted him.
"You want to know if I killed her?"
"Why, yes--though you put it roughly."
"What matter? Well, then, she died at my hands."
John Vanbrugh recoiled from the murderer in horror, and in a suppressed tone asked:
"When the Advocate defended you, did he know you were guilty?"