"Oh, what can have happened that you treat me like this?" she cried. "Your silence breaks my heart."
"You must not come near me, Valerie," I muttered hoarsely. "Leave me. You have no notion what I am."
"You are the man I love," she answered. "That is enough for me. Whatever it may be, I have the right to share your sorrow with you."
"No, no!" I cried. "You must have no more to do with me. Drive me away from you. I tell you I am viler than you can believe, lower than the common murderer, for he kills but one, while, God help me, I have killed thousands."
She must have thought me mad, for she uttered a little choking sob and sank down upon the floor, the very picture and embodiment of despair. Then the door opened and Pharos entered.
Seeing me standing in the centre of the room with a wild look upon my face, and Valerie crouching at my feet, he paused and gazed from one to the other of us in surprise.
"I am afraid I am de trop," he said, with the old nasty sneer upon his face. "If it is not putting you to too much trouble, perhaps one of you will be good enough to tell me what it means."
Neither of us answered for upward of a minute; then I broke the spell that bound us and turned to Pharos. How feeble the words seemed when compared with the violence of my emotions and the unbelievable nature of the charge I was bringing against him I must leave you to imagine.
"It means, Monsieur Pharos," I said, "that I have discovered everything."
I could say no more, for a lump was rising in my throat which threatened to choke me. It soon appeared, however, that I had said enough, for Pharos must either have read my thoughts and have understood that denial would be useless, or, since I was no longer necessary to him, he did not care whether he confessed to me or not. At any rate, he advanced into the room, his cruel eyes watching me intently the while.