"I suppose so. And there was a burning sun with a wicked face inside that
kept looking down at me. She says she often dreams of this wicked face, she
sees it first in a distant star that comes nearer and nearer, until it gets
to be large and red and angry. As the face comes closer her fear grows,
until she wakes with a start of terror; she says she would die of fright if
the face ever reached her _before_ she awoke. That's about all."

For some moments the commissary did not speak. "Did she try to interpret
this dream?"

"No."

"Why did she tell you about it?"

"She acted on a sudden impulse, so she says. I'm inclined to believe her;
but never mind that. Pougeot," he rose in agitation and stood leaning over
his friend, "in that forest scene she brought up something that isn't
known, something I've never even told you, my best friend."

"_Tiens!_ What is that?"

"You think I resigned from the police force two years ago, don't you?"

"Of course."

"Everyone thinks so. Well, it isn't true. I didn't resign; _I was
discharged._"

M. Pougeot stared in bewilderment, as if words failed him, and finally he