"Very interesting, very interesting!" he murmured to himself. "But now to business! Now for friend Guillaume and the Countess!" His face fell as he spoke. With the disappearance of excitement, and the cessation of exertion, he realised again the great sorrow that faced him and admitted of no evasion. He sighed deeply and sought his cigarette-case. Vain hope of comfort! His cigarettes were no more than a distasteful pulp. He felt forlorn, very cold, very hungry, also; for it was now between nine and ten o'clock. His heart was heavy as he prepared to mount the hill and finish his evening's work. He must see Guillaume; he must see the Countess; and then--

"Ah!" he cried, and stooped suddenly to the ground. A bright object lay plain and conspicuous on the road which had grown white again as it dried in the sharp wind. It was an oval locket of gold, dropped there, a few yards from the ford. It lay open--no doubt the jar of the fall accounted for that--face downwards. The Captain picked it up and examined it. He said nothing; his usual habit of soliloquy failed him for the moment; he looked at it, then round at the landscape. For the moonlight showed him a picture in the locket, and enabled him to make out a written inscription under it.

"What?" breathed he at last. "Oh, I can't believe it!" He looked again. "Oh, if that 's the lie of the land, my friend!" He smiled; then, in an apparent revulsion of feeling, he frowned angrily, and even shook his fist downstream, perhaps intending the gesture for some one in the village. Lastly, he shook his head sadly, and set off up the hill in the wake of the now vanished carriage; as he went, he whistled in a soft and meditative way. But before he started, he had a.s.sured himself that he in his turn had not dropped anything, and that M.

Guillaume's partially depleted portfolio was still safe in his pocket, side by side with his own precious papers. And he deposited the locket he had found with these other valued possessions.

A few minutes' walking brought him to the Cross. The exercise had warmed him, the threatened stiffness of cold had pa.s.sed; he ran lightly up the hill and down into the basin. There was no sign of M.

Guillaume. The Captain, rather vexed, for he had business with that gentleman,--an explanation of a matter which touched his own honour to make, and an account which intimately concerned M. Guillaume to adjust,--entered the hut. In an instant his hand was grasped in an appealing grip, and the voice he loved best in the world (there was no blinking the fact, whatever might be thought of the propriety), cried, "Ah, you 're safe?"

"How touching that is!" thought the Captain. "She has a hundred causes for anxiety, but her first question is, 'You're safe?'" This was she whom he renounced, and this was she whom the Count of Fieramondi deceived. What were her trifling indiscretions beside her husband's infamy--the infamy betrayed and proved by the picture and inscription in the locket?

"I am safe, and you are safe," said he, returning the pressure of her hand. "And where is our friend outside?"

"I don't know--I lay hidden till I heard him go. I don't know where he went. What do you mean by saying I'm safe?"

"I have got rid of Paul de Roustache. He 'll trouble you no more."

"What?" Wonder and admiration sparkled in her eyes. Because he was enabled to see them, Dieppe was grateful to her for having replaced and relighted his candle. "Yes, I was afraid in the dark," she said, noticing his glance at it. "But it 's almost burnt out. We must be quick. Is the trouble with M. de Roustache really over?"

"Absolutely."

"And we owe it to you? But you--why, you 're wet!"

"It's not surprising," said he, smiling. "There 's a flood in the river, and I have crossed it twice."

"What did you cross the river for?"

"I had to escort M. de Roustache across, and he 's a bad swimmer. He jumped in, and--"

"You saved his life?"

"Don't reproach me, my friend. It is an instinct; and--er--he carried the pocket-book of our friend outside; and the pocket-book had my money in it, you know."

"Your money? I thought you had only fifty francs?"

"The money due to me, I should say. Fifty thousand francs." The Captain unconsciously a.s.sumed an air of some importance as he mentioned this sum. "So I was bound to pursue friend Paul," he ended.

"It was dangerous?"

"Oh, no, no," he murmured. "Coming back, though, was rather difficult," he continued. "The carriage was very heavy, and we had some ado to--"

"The carriage! What carriage?" she cried with eagerness.

"Oddly enough, I found a lady travelling--from Sasellano, I understood; and I had the privilege of aiding her to cross the ford." Dieppe spoke with a calculated lightness.

"A lady--a lady from Sasellano? What sort of a lady? What was she like?"

The Captain was watching her closely. Her agitation was unmistakable.

Did she know, did she suspect, anything?

"She was tall, dark, and dignified in appearance. She spoke slowly, with a slight drawl--"

"Yes, yes!"

"And she was very eager to pursue her journey. She must have come by here. Did n't you hear the wheels?"

"No--I--I--was n't thinking." But she was thinking now. The next instant she cried, "I must go, I must go at once."

"But where?"

"Why, back home, of course! Where else should I go? Oh, I may be too late!"

Unquestionably she knew something--how much the Captain could not tell.

His feelings may be imagined. His voice was low, and very compa.s.sionate as he asked:

"You 'll go home? When she 's there? At least, if I conclude rightly--"

"Yes, I must go. I must get there before she sees Andrea, otherwise, all will be lost."

For the instant her agitation seemed to make her forget Dieppe's presence, or what he might think of her manner. Now she recovered herself. "I mean--I mean--I want to speak to her. I must tell her--"

"Tell her nothing. Confront her with that." And the Captain produced the gold locket with an air of much solemnity.

His action did not miss its effect. She gazed at the locket in apparent bewilderment.

"No, don't open it," he added hastily.

"Where did you get it?"

"She dropped it by the river. It was open when I picked it up."

"Why, it 's the locket-- How does it open?" She was busy looking for the spring.

"I implore you not to open it!" he cried, catching her hand and restraining her.

"Why?" she asked, pausing and looking up at him.

The question and the look that accompanied it proved too great a strain for Dieppe's self-control. Now he caught both her hands in his as he said:

"Because I can't bear that you should suffer. Because I love you too much."

Without a doubt it was delight that lit up her, eyes now, but she whispered reprovingly, "Oh, you! You the amba.s.sador."

"I had n't seen that locket when I became his amba.s.sador."

"Let go my hands."

"Indeed I can't," urged the Captain. But she drew them away with a sharp motion that he could not resist, and before he could say or do more to stop her she had opened the locket.