She pressed my hand and kissed it, and she promised to let me know everything upon M. Bordier's return. I did not tell her why I was anxious to return to the village with as little delay as possible, but I incidentally showed her the photograph which I had found in M. Felix's rooms. Her tears bedewed it, she kissed it again and again.
"It is my dear husband's portrait," she sobbed. "His name is in his own handwriting. Dear Gerald! They would have had me believe you false. Heaven forgive them for their treachery to you, to me!"
She begged me to leave the picture with her, but I was compelled to refuse; I needed it to track Dr. Peterssen and his patient. Of course I kept my reasons to myself, and I promised her that I would only retain the portrait a short time, and that it should soon be hers.
"I do not exactly know," I said, "where I shall be during the next few days; I may be travelling from place to place, but I shall continue to telegraph to you wherever I am; in order that you may communicate with me."
"But why do you go away again?" she asked; "you have discovered what you wished; nothing more remains to be done."
If she but knew, I thought, how different would be her desire--how she would urge me to fly, how she would implore, entreat, and urge me on!
"Much remains to be done," I said, "Dr. Peterssen must be found; he must not be allowed to escape."
"Leave him to Heaven's justice," she said.
"That will overtake him; but man's justice shall also be meted out to him. Would you leave Leonard Paget also in peace?"
"I would," she replied.