"And they're all out looking for him."
"I wonder if he went back to Peter Mauger's.... If he tried to cross that Coupée again—in the condition he was in—"
"He didn't go back to Peter's. Julie went there first of all to ask."
"Good Lord, what can have become of him?"
The answer came unexpectedly round the corner of the house—Julie Hamon, in a state of utmost dishevelment and agitation, which turned instantly to venomous fury at the sight of Gard and Nance.
Her black hair seemed all a-bristle. Her black eyes flamed. Her dark face worked like a quicksand. Her skirts were wet to the waist. Her jacket was open at the top, as though she had wrenched at it in a fit of choking. Her strong bare throat throbbed convulsively. Her hands, half closed at her side, looked as though they wanted something to claw.
"Did you do it?" she cried hoarsely, stalking up to Gard.
"Do what?"
"Kill him."
"Tom?... You don't mean to say—"