She shook her head slowly.
"Between Monsieur Feurgéres and myself," she said, "there can be no question of anything of the sort. There is nothing which he could offer me, nothing within his power to offer, which could influence me in the slightest."
"Then why," I asked, "are you here?"
"To see you," she answered. "I want to ask you this, Arnold. You wish Monsieur Feurgéres to go free. You wish to stay my hand. What price are you willing to pay?"
I looked at her blankly. As yet her meaning was hidden from me.
"Any price!" I declared.
Then she leaned over towards me.
"What is he to you, Arnold—this man?" she asked softly. "You are wonderfully loyal to some of your friends."
"I know the story of his life," I answered, "and it is enough. Besides, he is an old man, and I fancy that his health is failing. Let him end his days in peace. You will never regret it, Eileen. If my gratitude is worth anything to you——"
"I want," she interrupted, "more than your gratitude."