“As head of my house, monsieur, it is for me to say whom I count upon my side and whom I deem against me. Never again will I speak to or see M. de Proballe. I hold him for my worst enemy.” “And what of me?” he asked quickly. “You have done a bitter injustice and a cruel wrong to an innocent and gallant gentleman--but it is in your power to repair it. Will you speak the word that will undo it?” “Innocent?” he carped. “Was it innocent to steal among us in a false name and character. Was it gallant to act such a lie?” “He was forced into it.” “How forced and by whom?” “Need we pretend that we do not know?” “I do not know,” he replied bluntly. “Who is he, if he be not indeed this de Cobalt? I have clear proof that he was spying in the Castle here. If he be not de Cobalt, then is he a spy. Am I to suffer my Castle to be overrun by spies?” “He is no spy; of that I am assured.” “Then if an honest man, why this mystery?” Gabrielle knew the reason, recalling with a little thrill of delight how he had said it was for her sake; but she answered-- “Is every honest man who comes to Morvaix to be treated as a spy and thrown like a dog into a prison cell?” “If you were Governor here you would see this as I do; but I am indeed almost persuaded that he is still only deceiving us.” “I do not understand.” “I believe he is in truth what he avowed himself at the first--Gerard de Cobalt.” “But you yourself and M. de Proballe held it disproved.” “The letter may have been but a trick, like other things. He had deceived us as to the flagrancy of that act of his at Cambrai; and knowing it to be too vile to be pardoned, had this further lie enacted, meaning to pass for some one else and so save his head. But he will not save it.” “You mean he will be tried for the crime?” “I mean he’ll lose his head for it,” was the blunt answer. “You will not do this foul injustice,” said Gabrielle, with a touch of indignation. “Who murders, dies, mademoiselle; that at least is law all over France; and Morvaix is no city of shelter.” “He must not die; you cannot be so cruel.” Half protest, half entreaty was in her tone; and the Governor paused and bent his eyes upon her before he replied. “For your sake more than any other’s, it is best that he should.” “I do not understand you,” cried Gabrielle, with a catch of the breath as in fear. “He has impressed you so deeply that, were his life spared and his liberty given to him, you would never be safe from him. He is a murderer, a man of the vilest life, who would never cease to persecute you, after what has passed.” There was an even deeper depth of vileness in this man than she had deemed, was Gabrielle’s thought; and for a moment it cost her a supreme effort to remain calm. But the thought of Gerard’s peril came to her aid. “Do you mean you would kill him out of consideration for me?” she asked, as if incredulous.