She simply raised her veil and sank into the nearest chair. I was staggered when I saw her face. It was positively haggard, and her eyes were burning. She looked at me almost with horror.
"I had to come," she said. "I could not keep away a moment longer. Tell me the truth, Guy Ducaine. The truth, mind!" she repeated, fearfully.
"What do you mean?" I asked, bewildered. "I do not understand you."
"Tell me the truth about that man who came to see you on the seventh of
January."
I shook my head.
"I have nothing to tell you," I said firmly. "When I found him on the marshes he was dead. I did not hear till afterwards that he had ever asked for me."
"This is the truth?" she asked eagerly.
"It is the truth!" I answered.
I could see the relief shine in her face. She was still anxious, however.
"Is it true," she asked, "that you told a girl in the village, Blanche Moyat, to keep secret the fact that this man inquired in the village for the way to your cottage?"