"And Josephine knows? She understands?"
"No, M'sieur. Only you and I know. Listen: To-night I kneeled down in darkness in my room, and prayed that the soul of my Iowaka might come to me. I felt her near, M'sieur! It is strange—you may not believe—but some day you may understand. And we were there together for an hour, and I pleaded for her forgiveness, for the time had come when I must break my oath to save our Josephine. And I could hear her speak to me, M'sieur, as plainly as you hear that breath of wind in the tree-tops yonder. Praise the Holy Father, I heard her! And so we are going to fight the great fight, M'sieur."
Philip waited. After a moment Jean said, as quietly as if he were asking the time of day:
"Do you know whom we went out to see last night—and met again to-night?" he asked.
"I have guessed," replied Philip. His face was white and hard.
Jean nodded.
"I think you have guessed correctly, M'sieur. It was the baby's father!"
And then, in amazement, he stared at Philip. For the other had flung off his arm, and his eyes were blazing in the starlight.
"And you have had all this trouble, all this mystery, all this fear because of HIM?" he demanded. His voice rang out in a harsh laugh. "You met him last night, and again to-night, and LET HIM GO? You, Jean Croisset? The one man in the whole world I would give my life to meet—and YOU afraid of him? My God, if that is all—"
Jean interrupted him, laying a firm, quiet hand on his arm.