“Softly, Kate, softly!” murmured the colonel. But she did not heed him.
“You—you spawn of hell!” she cried. “It was you who sent me down where I am—where not a decent woman will look at me and a decent man won't speak to me. You did it—you left me to rot in my shame so you could find some one else—some one younger and prettier to fondle and kiss and—Oh, God!”
She sank in a shuddering heap on the sand at the feet of the man who had broken her body and spirit, and lay there, sobbing out her anger.
“Let her stay there a little,” said the colonel softly. “She'll feel better after this outburst.”
“Jean! Jean! What is it all about?” begged the girl who still maintained her place beside him. “Oh, speak to me! Tell me! Who is she?” and she pointed to the huddled figure on the sand.
“I'll tell you who she is,” said Colonel Ashley. “She is the legal wife of Jean Carnot, alias Jean Forette, and—”
A scream from Mazi stopped him.
“Tell me it isn't true, Jean! Tell me it isn't true!” begged the girl.
Jean Carnot did not speak.
“He knows it is true,” said the colonel. “And now, my French auto friend, I've come to take you into custody on a charge of—”