"And you know--of no other way, monsieur? Of no other way?" she repeated slowly and piteously.
"Of none, Madame, of none, I swear."
She sighed deeply, and stood sunk in thought. Then, "When do we reach Angers?" she asked heavily.
"The day after to-morrow."
"I have--until the day after to-morrow?"
"Yes. To-night we lie near Vendôme."
"And to-morrow night?"
"Near a place called La Flèche. It is possible," he went on with hesitation--for he did not understand her--"that he may bathe to-morrow, and may hand the packet to you, as he did to-day when I vainly sought speech with you. If he does that----"
"Yes?" she said, her eyes on his face.
"The taking will be easy. But when he finds you have it not--" he faltered anew--"it may go hard with you."