I stood. ‘Pardon?’ I said, turning.
‘That gentleman?’ he said, hesitating and looking at me doubtfully. ‘Have you considered what will happen to him if you give him up to the authorities?’
‘Who is he?’ I asked sharply.
‘That is rather a delicate question,’ he answered frowning.
‘Not for me,’ I replied brutally, ‘since he is in my power. If he will take off his mask I shall know better what I intend to do with him.’
The stranger had lost his hat in his fall, and his fair hair, stained with dust, hung in curls on his shoulders. He was a tall man, of a slender, handsome presence, and, though his dress was plain and almost rough, I espied a splendid jewel on his hand, and fancied that I detected other signs of high quality. He still lay against the bank in a half-swooning condition, and seemed unconscious of my scrutiny.
‘Should I know him if he unmasked?’ I said suddenly, a new idea in my head.
‘You would,’ M. de Cocheforet answered.
‘And?’
‘It would be bad for everyone.’