He rushed toward her, in a state of intense excitement: "You know him? Who was he? Who is he? Who is he? And why did you not tell me? Where have you known him? Speak . . . answer. . . . I implore you. . . ." "No," she said. "But you must, you must. . . . Think! Louis de Malreich! The murderer! The monster! . . . Why did you not tell me?" She, in turn, placed her hands on Lupin's shoulders and, in a firm voice, declared: "Listen, you must never ask me, because I shall never tell. . . . It is a secret which I shall take with me to the grave. . . . Come what may, no one will ever know, no one in the wide world, I swear it!" He stood before her for some minutes, anxiously, with a confused brain. He remembered Steinweg's silence and the old man's terror when Lupin asked him to reveal the terrible secret. Dolores also knew and she also refused to speak. He went out without a word. * * * * * The open air, the sense of space, did him good. He passed out through the park-wall and wandered long over the country. And he soliloquized aloud: "What does it mean? What is happening? For months and months, fighting hard and acting, I have been pulling the strings of all the characters that are to help me in the execution of my plans; and, during this time, I have completely forgotten to stoop over them and see what is going on in their hearts and brains. I do not know Pierre Leduc, I do not know Geneviève, I do not know Dolores. . . . And I have treated them as so many jumping-jacks, whereas they are live persons. And to-day I am stumbling over obstacles." He stamped his foot and cried: "Over obstacles that do not exist! What do I care for the psychological state of Geneviève, of Pierre? . . . I will study that later, at Veldenz, when I have secured their happiness. But Dolores . . . she knew Malreich and said nothing! . . . Why? What relation united them? Was she afraid of him? Is she afraid that he will escape from prison and come to revenge himself for an indiscretion on her part?" At night, he went to the chalet which he had allotted to his own use at the end of the park and dined in a very bad temper, storming at Octave, who waited on him and who was always either too slow or too fast: "I'm sick of it, leave me alone. . . . You're doing everything wrong to-day. . . . And this coffee. . . . It's not fit to drink." He pushed back his cup half-full and, for two hours, walked about the park, sifting the same ideas over and over again. At last, one suggestion took definite shape within his mind: "Malreich has escaped from prison. He is terrifying Mrs. Kesselbach. By this time, he already knows the story of the mirror from her. . . ." Lupin shrugged his shoulders: "And to-night he's coming to pull my leg, I suppose! I'm talking nonsense. The best thing I can do is to go to bed."