with the Chevalier. Well, he is out of the game."

"Do you know what brought him here?" veering into a new channel to lull
the vicomte's caution. She had an idea.

"I do; but it would not sound pleasant in your ears."

"He followed . . ."

"A woman?" with quick anticipation. "I do not say so. I brought him
into our conversation merely to prove to you that I was more in your
confidence than you dreamed of."

Madame drew her fingers across her brow.

"Does any one else know that you have this paper?" Madame manoeuvered
her chair, bringing it as close as possible to the table. Less than
three feet intervened between her and the vicomte.

"You and I alone are in the secret, Madame."

"If I should call for help?"

"Call, Madame; many will hear. But this paper, and the general fear of
Mazarin since the Fronde, and the fact that I have practically
obliterated my signature by scratching a pen across it . . . Well, if
you think it wise."

Her arms dropped upon the table, and the despair on her face deceived
him. "Monsieur, this is unmanly, cruel!"