The man's eyes sparkled:
"Ah, you do, do you?... You must be a fool to admit it!... Since you know, you're going to tell, my dear. If not——"
He drew his revolver.
She said mockingly:
"Just as with Juliet Assire? Twenty's what you count, isn't it? You may as well save your breath; it doesn't work with me."
"I swear, dammit!—--"
"Words!"
No: the battle was certainly not lost. Dorothy, though exhausted, her face smeared with blood, clung to every possible incident with grim tenacity. She felt strongly that, in his fury, d'Estreicher was capable of killing her. But she was quite as clearly aware of his confusion of ideas and of her power over him. He hadn't the strength to depart and abandon the medal for which he had struggled so desperately. If only his hesitation lasted a few minutes longer, Raoul was bound to appear on the scene.
At this moment an incident occurred which appeared to excite her keenest interest, for she leant forward to follow it more closely. The old Baron came out of the Manor, carrying a bag, not dressed, as usual, in a blouse, but in a cloth suit, and wearing a felt hat. That showed that he had made a choice, that is to say, an effort of thought. Then there was another such effort. Goliath was not with him. He waited for him, stamped his foot, and when the dog did come, caught him by the collar, looked about him, and took his way to the gate.
The two confederates barred his path; he muttered some grumbling complaints and tried to get past them. They shoved him back and at last he went off among the trees, without loosing Goliath, but leaving his bag behind him.