Captain Stewart turned his grey face slowly and looked at the other man with a sort of dull and apathetic wonder.
"Are you mad?" he asked in a voice which was altogether without feeling of any kind. "Are you quite mad?"
"On the contrary," said Ste. Marie, "I am quite sane, and I'm offering you a chance to save yourself before it's too late.
"Don't misunderstand me!" he said. "I am not urging this out of any sympathy for you. I urge it because it will bring about what I wish a little more quickly, also because it will save your family from the disgrace of your smash-up. That's why I'm making my suggestion."
Captain Stewart was silent for a little while, but after that he got heavily to his feet.
"I think you must be quite mad," said he, as before, in a voice altogether devoid of expression. "I cannot talk with madmen." He beckoned to the old Michel, who stood near-by leaning upon his carbine, and when the gardener had approached, he said—
"Take this—prisoner back to his room!"
Ste. Marie rose with a little sigh. He said—
"I'm sorry, but you'll admit I have done my best for you. I've warned you. I shan't do it again. We shall smash you now, without mercy."
"Take him away!" cried Captain Stewart in a sudden loud voice, and the old Michel touched his charge upon the shoulder. So Ste. Marie went without further words. From a little distance he looked back, and the other man still stood by the fallen tree trunk, bent a little, his arms hanging lax beside him, and his face, Ste. Marie thought fancifully, was like the face of a man damned.