“Yes,” she answered, looking at him and trembling, “but I dare not—oh, I dare not open it!”
“Sophia,” he said, “if my words are not true, I will pass out of your life for always. I challenge you. If you open that box you will know that your husband is, indeed, the greatest scoundrel in Europe.”
She drew a key from a gold chain around her neck.
“There are two locks,” she told him. “The other is a combination, but I know the word. Who’s that?”
She started suddenly. There was a loud tapping at the door. Bernadine threw an antimacassar half over the box, but he was too late. De Grost and Hagon had crossed the threshold. The woman stood like some dumb creature. Hagon, transfixed, stood with his eyes riveted upon Bernadine. His face was distorted with passion, he seemed like a man beside himself with fury. De Grost came slowly forward into the middle of the room.
“Count von Hern,” he said, “I think that you had better leave.”
The woman found words.
“Not yet,” she cried, “not yet! Paul, listen to me. This man has told me a terrible thing.”
The breath seemed to come through Hagon’s teeth like a hiss.
“He has told you!”