“To take my jewels?” she interrupted.
“Mademoiselle!” I cried, starting back, the blood flaming in my face again. “You think——”
“I think nothing, Monsieur. I discover a strange man in my apartments at night. He says that he is masquerading as a thief. What else am I to infer?”
I was dumb before her merciless logic.
“Mademoiselle,” I began desperately, “I deeply regret——”
“So, too, do I. I knew—at least I thought I knew, on that day, the day you did me such brave service—that you were a gentleman, in spite of what you wore, yet—well, I see I was deceived.”
“Don’t say that!” I protested again.
“Why not, Monsieur?”
“Mademoiselle, I am here in defiance of every rule of propriety, I will admit. You may well think me a thief,” I began, with passionate haste, “but I am only following your example.”
“How, sir?” she exclaimed.