"Mrs. Toby has told me everything, I myself cannot remember anything. I seem to have awakened from a bad dream." An absent look came into her dark eyes. She sat silent for a while immersed in recollections which made her features appear cold and hard; then she gave a little sigh, raised her eyes and continued: "I can never repay such kindness, I can only express my thanks to all, Mrs. Toby, yourself, and your friend whom I have never seen."
"Maurice Wallion? Oh, he is coming soon, but please don't talk about gratitude."
"Well, well, I don't understand how you could ... why, you don't even know who I am."
"Was that necessary?"
She pointed to her arm, where a lump under the thin silk blouse revealed the bandage. "The man who gave me that wound ... he knew well enough who I was," she said with a sorrowful smile that went to Tom's heart.
"It proves that Victor Dreyel's murderer was no friend of yours," he answered.
"But you ... are you not afraid I might be an adventuress?" she said in a scarcely audible voice.
They looked into each other's eyes, but suddenly she averted her gaze and bent her head.
"No," he answered, "I was never afraid of that."
She rose hurriedly. "If you won't let me express my thanks there is nothing for me but to go," she said.