She did not protest. He tried to read her secret thoughts in the depths of her eyes. What did she want with him? What was she afraid of? If she mistrusted him, had he not also reasons to mistrust that woman who had twice taken the crystal stopper from him to restore it to Daubrecq? Mortal enemy of Daubrecq’s though she were, up to what point did she remain subject to that man’s will? By surrendering himself to her, did he not risk surrendering himself to Daubrecq? And yet he had never looked upon graver eyes nor a more honest face.
Without further hesitation, he stated:
“My object is simple enough. It is the release of my friends Gilbert and Vaucheray.”
“Is that true? Is that true?” she exclaimed, quivering all over and questioning him with an anxious glance.
“If you knew me....”
“I do know you.... I know who you are. For months, I have taken part in your life, without your suspecting it . . . and yet, for certain reasons, I still doubt....”
He said, in a more decisive tone:
“You do not know me. If you knew me, you would know that there can be no peace for me before my two companions have escaped the awful fate that awaits them.”
She rushed at him, took him by the shoulders and positively distraught, said:
“What? What did you say? The awful fate?... Then you believe . . . you believe....”