“Will you, Colonel?” the big blonde woman asked eagerly.
“I will—and here's my hand on it!”
He reached out in the darkness, but there was no answering clasp. The woman seemed to shrink away. And then she said:
“I don't believe it would be of any use. I guess I'm too far down to crawl up. But I'll help you all I can.”
“Don't give up, Kate!” said the detective gently. “I've seen lots worse than you—you notice I'm not mincing words—I've seen lots worse than you start over again. All I'll say is that I'll give you the chance if you want it. There's nothing in this life you're leading. You know the end and the answer as well as I do. You've seen it many a time.”
“God help me—I have!” she murmured. “Well, I—I'll think about it.”
“And, meanwhile, tell me about this Jean Carnot,” went on the colonel. “You were married to him?”
“I thought I was.”
“What sort of man was he? Come, sit down on this sand dune and tell me all about it. I think I want that man.”
“No more than I do,” she said fiercely. “He left me as he would an old coat he couldn't use any more! He cast me aside, trampled on me, left me like a sick dog! Oh, God—”