“Captain,” said Don Luis, “you’ve scored two fine blunders. The first was your not telling me that Grégoire was a woman. The second . . .”
But Don Luis saw that the officer was too much dejected for him to care about completing his charge. He put his hand on Patrice Belval’s shoulder:
“Come,” he said, “don’t upset yourself. The position’s not as bad as you think.”
“Coralie jumped out of the window to escape that man,” Patrice muttered.
“Your Coralie is alive,” said Don Luis, shrugging his shoulders. “In Siméon’s hands, but alive.”
“Why, what do you know about it? Anyway, if she’s in that monster’s hands, might she not as well be dead? Doesn’t it mean all the horrors of death? Where’s the difference?”
“It means a danger of death, but it means life if we come in time; and we shall.”
“Have you a clue?”
“Do you imagine that I have sat twiddling my thumbs and that an old hand like myself hasn’t had time in half an hour to unravel the mysteries which this cabin presents?”
“Then let’s go,” cried Patrice, already eager for the fray. “Let’s have at the enemy.”