He did not look back at her, for he was already crossing the threshold; but with that awful taunt ringing in his ears he staggered from her presence, leaving her to the mingled sweet and bitter of her triumph and defeat.
Camille flung her arms over her head with a piercing shriek of rage that died into silence a minute later, for she had grown rigid and unconscious. It required all Finette’s art to bring her out of that long, death-like swoon.
She was lying, white and exhausted, when Finette bent over her with menacing eyes.
“He called you murderess. What did he mean?” she asked, sharply.
Camille cowered, and protested that the maid had not understood Norman; he had uttered no such word.
“I do not believe you. I heard him distinctly. Come, I thought I knew the worst of you, but I did not believe you were as bad as that. I understand much now that used to puzzle me. I have a mind to leave you forever.”
“‘Rats always desert a sinking ship!’” Camille quoted, scornfully.
“And very sensible in them, too,” Finette muttered. She rose suddenly to her feet. “I’ll follow their example, and let you go to the gallows by yourself, miladi,” she said, heartlessly.
But Camille clutched her skirts with a shriek, as she turned to go.
“Stay with me, Finette, and I will make you rich,” she cried, pleadingly. “You shall have another one of those uncut gems—that great emerald that cost me many thousands. Only stay with me! You are the only friend I have in the wide world!” hysterically.