“Denise.”
She struggled to find words.
“I thought that it was Grimbald here. Marpasse deceived me.”
How poor and miserly the words seemed, and the sense of their ineffectual coldness drove her to glance at Aymery’s face. He was lying back in the shadow, his eyes watching her with that same puzzled, questioning, and wistful look. She saw them fill suddenly with understanding, and the generous gleam that followed, humbled her heart.
“I did not know——” he began.
“Marpasse told me——”
She bit her lips, and was silent.
“Denise—it was no trick of mine, God knows that!”
She leant against the door, hiding her face.
“I lost you—after Gaillard and I had ended it. They brought me here, and told me that they had found you, but that they would not bring you to me—because of my wounds. That—is everything. Call Marpasse. She shall open the door and let you go.”