“It was in consequence of something that was revealed.”
“By whom?”
“By thee.”
“What revelation have I made?” I asked, sorely puzzled.
She held her breath, her fingers twitched with nervous excitement, and the colour left her cheeks. She seemed striving to preserve some strange secret, yet, at the same time, half inclined to render me the explanation I sought.
“The astounding truth became unveiled unconsciously,” she said.
“My mind faileth to follow the meanderings of thy words,” I said. “What truth?”
“Behold!” she cried, and hitching the slim fingers of both her hands in the bodice of cream flimsy silk she wore beneath her zouave, she tore it asunder disclosing, not without a blush of modesty, her white chest.
“Behold!” she cried, hoarsely. “What dost thou recognise?”
With both her hands she held the torn garment apart, and, as she did so, my eyes became riveted in abject amazement. Bending, I examined it closely, assuring myself that I was not dreaming.