“But you were inclined to be ironical just now, when I said I would marry you if you were successful. So I mention that other secret just to show that the understanding you wish to arrive at may be mutual—there may be two sides to it. I hear my father coming. That is his voice at the gate. We will leave things as they stand: n’est ce pas?”
She rose as she spoke and went toward the door. The Marquis’s voice was raised, and there seemed to be some unusual clamour at the gate.
CHAPTER XXXVIII — A COUP-D'ÉTAT
As the Marquis de Gemosac’s step was already on the stairs, Barebone was spared the necessity of agreeing in words to the inevitable.
A moment later the old man hurried into the room. He had not even waited to remove his coat and gloves. A few snow-flakes powdered his shoulders.
“Ah!” he cried, on perceiving Barebone. “Good—you are safe!” He turned to speak to some one who was following him up the stairs with the slower steps of one who knew not his way.
“All is well!” he cried. “He is here. Give yourself no anxiety.”
And the second comer crossed the threshold, coming suddenly out of the shadow of the staircase. It was Dormer Colville, white with snow, his face grey and worn. He shook hands with Barebone and bowed to Juliette, but the Marquis gave him no time to speak.