"But I want to know," said Aymar faintly. "It has been such an enigma to me, how the idea ever arose that you intended to shoot her."
"If you will be persuaded by me you will not insist on knowing now."
"It is my only chance of learning the truth," urged L'Oiseleur. He was getting quite dazed with strain and fatigue.
But when Colonel Richard had finished it was not fatigue of which he was conscious. His head was propped on his clenched fists, his face invisible, and the elder man was leaning against the table with his back to him.
"Now you know why I almost regretted Pont-aux-Rochers," said the latter, looking at the floor, "and why I wished I had not let my officers know from whom I had the information which led to it . . . and most of all did I regret that I had allowed your lieutenant to have that letter back again, when I heard——"
"What had happened to me in consequence," supplied Aymar in an almost extinguished voice. He raised a face that matched it. "Yes, I understand. But you are excessively punctilious, Colonel Richard. Others will not judge so mercifully."
"They cannot, if you refuse to defend yourself."
"I have already explained to you why I cannot. And what you have just told me will hardly render my defence more easy, will it?" He gave the ghost of a laugh. "My God! it makes me almost a figure in a farce! But I thank you—I thank you for everything." And this time he got successfully to his feet.
"There is no need to thank me," said Colonel Richard almost curtly. "Have I not to end with an apology? But of what use is it to be ashamed when what is done is done?" He seemed to be struggling a trifle for his own self-control; and then abruptly changed the subject. "You are not travelling unaccompanied, I hope?"
"By no means. I have a friend with me."