"I shall indeed," the other assured him.
"I am only human," Tranter went on, with an effort—"more human than I thought. I resisted her once by taking flight. I couldn't resist her to-night."
He mastered his emotion.
"From the moment she first came into the room I was helpless. I knew what would come of it—but I couldn't tear myself away. It was the whole spell—with all the new strength of memories. I knew she intended to find me alone in the garden." He paused. "I had to let her."
"Human nature," said Monsieur Dupont consolingly, "is human nature."
Silence followed. Monsieur Dupont thoughtfully puffed at his cigar.
"A crooked house in a crooked garden," he said, at length, "is a combination from which all honest people should shrink. Those who frequent it must be, for the most part, crooked people. They were, for the most part, crooked people to-night."
"It was a crooked evening from beginning to end," Tranter said wearily.
"It was a wicked evening," Monsieur Dupont declared—"full of wicked thoughts. A crime was the natural and logical end to such an evening. It would have been surprising if there had not been one."
He smoked vigorously for some moments—then made an expansive gesture.