“Stop and let her go,” he repeated. “You hear, Josephine? I wish you to let her go. It isn’t a matter of postponing the infamous thing you propose to do or of abandoning it. It’s a matter of instantly letting Clarice d’Etigues go and opening that door for her to go through.” It must be that he was wholly sure of himself and that his will rested on truly extraordinary grounds for him to formulate it with so imperious a solemnity. Even Leonard himself was impressed and stood undecided; while Clarice, who had not grasped the full horror of their intention, appeared to take comfort. Josephine, taken aback, murmured: “Words--just words. Some fresh ruse----” “Facts,” he declared, “or rather one fact which dominates everything and before which you will have to give way.” “What does that mean?” asked Josephine, more and more disturbed. “What is it you want?” “I don’t _want_--I demand.” “What?” “The immediate liberty of Clarice. The liberty of leaving this place without either you or Leonard stirring a foot.” She burst out laughing and asked: “Is that all?” “That’s all.” “And in exchange you offer me?” “The key-word of the enigma!” She quivered and said: “You know it, then?” “Yes.” The drama had suddenly undergone a complete change. From all the furious antagonism which flung them into conflict with one another, from the hatred and fury of love and jealousy, there seemed to come clear only their anxiety about the great enterprise. The obsession of vengeance passed into the background of Josephine’s mind. The thousands and thousands of jewels were, as Ralph had willed, once more gleaming before her eyes. Beaumagnan raised himself painfully into a sitting posture and was listening with all his ears. Leaving Clarice to the care of her confederate, Josine stepped nearer to Ralph, and said: “Is it sufficient to know the key-word of the enigma?” “No,” he said with decision. “It is still necessary to interpret it. The meaning of the formula is hidden behind a veil; and the first thing to do is to pierce that veil.” “And have you done it?” “Yes. I already had some ideas about the matter. Just now, all at once, the truth flashed on me.” She knew that he was not the man to joke at such a juncture. “Tell me about it,” she said, “and Clarice shall go.” “Let her go first and I’ll tell you my idea. Of course I won’t reveal it with a rope round my neck and my hands bound, but free and in no way hampered.” “But it’s absurd!” she protested. “You revolutionize the whole situation. As it is it’s absolutely in my power to do what I like.” “Not now,” he declared. “Now you depend on me; and it is for me to dictate the conditions.” She shrugged her shoulders and looked round the room somewhat helplessly, then she was obliged to say: “Swear to speak the exact truth. Swear it by the tomb of your mother.”