I unlocked the door of Jacqueline's room. I saw her standing at the foot of the bed. She was supporting herself by her hands on the brass framework. Her face was white. As I entered she looked up piteously at me.
"Who—was—that?" she asked in a frightened whisper.
"An impudent fellow—that is all, Jacqueline."
"I thought I knew his voice," she answered slowly. "It made me—almost—remember. And I do not want to remember, Paul."
She put her arms about my neck and cried. I tried to comfort her, but it was a long time before I succeeded.
I locked her door on the outside, and that night I slept with the key beneath my pillow.
CHAPTER VI
AT THE FOOT OF THE CLIFF
The next morning, after again cautioning Jacqueline not to leave her room until I returned, I went to the house of Captain Dubois on Paul Street, in the Lower Town.