A moment later, when the lamplight revealed her features, he drew back in amazement.
“You—Gabrielle?” he cried.
“Oui, I am that unfortunate personage,” she replied, with an air of nonchalance. “And, moreover, I have been an unintentional eavesdropper.”
“You heard my confession?” he asked hoarsely.
“Well—yes. It was an interesting story, yet scarcely novel—at least, to one who is better acquainted with the real facts than yourself.”
“Then you knew of my crime?”
“Yes. A combination of circumstances revealed to me who it was who committed the murder.”
“Ah! It was I—I who killed him,” he cried wildly, glaring with haggard eyes.
Hugh stood staring at the strange visitor. Amazed at her sudden appearance, he was speechless. About twenty-eight, tall, dark, with features that were decidedly foreign, she was well-dressed, wearing a smart little sealskin cape, the collar of which was turned up around her neck, while upon her head was perched a coquettish little bonnet.
Jack Egerton recovered himself quickly, and, apologising for neglecting to introduce them, presented her to his friend as Mademoiselle Gabrielle Debriège. Then offering her his chair, he stood before her, and commenced a series of inquiries as to her movements since they last met, and what had induced her to seek him.