“You’re mad,” he said in a tone of disgust.
She did not heed his remark, but continued—
“Perhaps,” she cried, “you will deny that a celebrated case was recently investigated by the Assize Court of the Seine, and was popularly known as the Mystery of the Boulevard Haussmann. Perhaps you will deny that Valérie Dardignac and Mrs Trethowen are the same person; that she—”
“What are you saying?”
“The truth. Moreover, I tell you I intend having satisfaction from you who lured me almost to my death.”
“Oh! How?” he asked defiantly.
“By a very simple process. I have merely to place the police in possession of the true facts regarding the crime which startled Paris not long ago. You shall not escape me now.”
He stood erect, glaring at her, his mouth twitching, his face pale, with a murderous expression upon it.
“So those are your tactics, miss?” he cried, with rage, springing upon her, and clutching with both hands at her throat. “You are the only person who knows our secret.”
“Help! police!” she shouted in alarm, noticing his determined manner.