"Sais pas."
He paced the floor once more, and presently faced me again with the declaration:
"Lucas shall have her only over my dead body."
"He will only have her own dead body," I said.
He turned away abruptly and stood at the window, looking out with unseeing eyes. "Lorance—Lorance," he murmured to himself. I think he did not know he spoke aloud.
"If I could get word to her—" he went on presently. "But I can't send you again. Should I write a letter—But letters are mischievous. They fall into the wrong hands, and then where are we?"
"Monsieur," I suggested, "if I could get a letter into the hands of Pierre, that lackey who befriended me—" But he shook his head.
"They know you about the place. It were safer to despatch one of these inn-men—if any had the sense to go rein in hand. Hang me if I don't think I'll go myself!"
"Monsieur," I said, "Lucas swore by all things sacred that he would never molest you more. Therefore you will do well to keep out of his way."
"My faith, Félix," he laughed, "you take a black view of mankind."