“No, I do not deny.”
“He admits it! Didn't you come as his barber?”
“Yes, my frien', as his barber.” Lady Mary cried out faintly, and, shuddering, put both hands over her eyes.
“I'm sorry,” said Molyneux. “You fight like a gentleman.”
“I thank you, monsieur.”
“You called yourself Beaucaire?”
“Yes, monsieur.” He was swaying to and fro; his servants ran to support him.
“I wish—” continued Molyneux, hesitating. “Evil take me!—but I'm sorry you're hurt.”
“Assist Sir Hugh into my carriage,” said Lady Mary.
“Farewell, mademoiselle!” M. Beaucaire's voice was very faint. His eyes were fixed upon her face. She did not look toward him.