"I knew of the secret drawer; I had seen madame open it; I knew what it contained. But I was faithful to madame; I loved her; I was glad that she had found some one…. Madame will remember her despair, her horror, when she entered her room to find the cabinet gone, taken away, sold by that…. I, too, was in despair—I desired with my whole soul to help madame. That night I had a rendezvous with him," and she nodded toward the photograph which lay upon the floor. "I told him."
Her mistress stood as though turned to stone. I could guess her anguish and humiliation.
"He questioned me—he learned everything—the drawer, how it was opened—all. But I did not suspect what was in his mind—not for an instant did I suspect. But on the boat I saw him, and then I knew. Well, he has got what he deserved!"
She shivered and pressed her hands against her eyes.
"I think that is all, madame," she added, hoarsely.
"It is all of that story," said Godfrey, in a crisp voice; "but there is another."
"Another?" echoed the veiled lady, looking at him.
"Ask her, madame, for what purpose she called at this house, night before last, and saw Philip Vantine in this room."
"I did not!" shrieked the girl, her face ablaze. "It is a lie!"
"She does not need to tell!" went on Godfrey inexorably. "Any fool could guess. She came for the letters! She had resolved herself to blackmail you, madame!"