"On the contrary, madame," he answered; "I have preceded you."
Her colossal vanity triumphed over her natural astuteness. The man had employed spies to watch her! He had lost his head. It was an awkward matter, this, but it was to be arranged. She held out her hands.
"Monsieur," she said, "let me beg you now to go away. If you care to, come and see me this evening. I will explain everything. It is a little family affair which brings me here."
"A family affair, madame, with Bernadine, the enemy of France," Peter declared gravely.
She collapsed miserably, her fingers grasping at the air; the cry which broke from her lips harsh and unnatural. Before he could tell what was happening, she was on her knees before him.
"Spare me!" she begged, trying to seize his hands.
"Madame," Peter answered, "I am not your judge. You will kindly hand over to me the document which you are carrying."
She took it from the bosom of her dress. Peter glanced at it and placed it in his breast-pocket.
"And now?" she faltered.
Peter sighed—she was a very beautiful woman.