“You know not what you say. But the matter must be probed to the bottom;” and afraid to say more she left him and hurried back to Denys’ bedside. Pascal looked after her, nodded once or twice in answer to his thoughts, and then, with a quizzical smile, muttered, as he turned back to his room-- “Now is the devil about to claim some of his dues for this mad business. I must find Gerard and tell him.” They had scarcely parted when the face of the spy Jacques Dauban peeped cautiously round an angle of the wall. Seeing the way was clear he came on with stealthy noiseless tread, chuckling slyly to himself as he rubbed his hands together. He paused just a moment to listen at the door through which Pascal had gone, and then passed on toward the room where Denys lay. CHAPTER VIII THE PLOT THICKENS Meanwhile Gerard himself, without any help from Pascal’s misadventure, was finding enough embarrassments to tax his wit and resourcefulness. De Proballe, anxious that Gerard should have the fullest opportunities to push his suit with Gabrielle, soon made an excuse to leave them together. He pleaded that he must send to the Governor to arrange for the interview between him and Gerard, and left them--a move that was not without its embarrassment to Gerard, since Gabrielle promptly took advantage of it to carry the conversation back to the point where it had been interrupted in the gardens. “You have something important to tell me, Gerard, I know. You were about to tell me when my uncle came to us. But first, I have to make a confession and to ask your pardon.” “I am no priest, I fear,” he said, meeting her smiling gaze. “But this is a wrong done to you. When I was thinking over all we said to-day--and I have thought of nothing else since--I remembered to my shame, that I had never given you even a word of thanks for your help yesterday, and again to-day.” “Please say nothing of it.” “Oh, but you must have thought me a very miser of my gratitude. And I am not that. Indeed, indeed, I do thank you from the bottom of my heart,” she cried, warmly, her eyes on his face. “Do you think I need more reward than the knowledge that it was you whom I could help? When I saw you yesterday, my heart leapt, and I vowed----” “Well?” she asked, as he paused; and when he still hesitated, checked by the thought that he had no right to speak thus while the truth of his position was still unexplained, she added, with a little frown and a very winsome smile, “you break off at most irritating points, cousin.” “I vowed myself to your service for good or ill,” he said deliberately. “Take care what you say, cousin. Did you know who I was?” “Not then, indeed.” “Then was that surely a most dangerous vow.” “How?” She laughed merrily. “Supposing it had not been Gabrielle to whom you thus rashly vowed yourself; what would you have done?” “I had not thought of it. No other woman would have drawn such a vow from me.”