“Do about what?” she questioned. “You presume a good deal, Monsieur de Plenhöel, to address me as you are doing.” She was marking time, and he knew it. “Rest assured, madame, that I am not here for my pleasure,” he replied. “You seem to forget that I am your husband’s kinsman and friend--not to enumerate other capacities which had better not be mentioned just now. At any rate, I am endeavoring to do my best for his sake, and that of one or two more persons--your son, for instance. But if you persist in the line--of defense--you seem to have taken up, I will bow you out, and take my own course in the matter.” “But really, monsieur, I have not the faintest idea of what you want of me--of what you accuse me! Is this a joke, or do you genuinely imagine that you have me at a disadvantage?” “I believe in the testimony of my own eyes.” “Indeed! Well, and what did your own eyes testify to, that so greatly offends a--_mondain_ like yourself?” Régis felt that he could have joyously beaten her with a schoolroom birch, but chivalry has its drawbacks, and he had to be content with an utterly futile clenching of the fingers, which she observed with pleasure. If she could only make him lose his temper! “I saw you,” he said, now quite brutally frank, “with your arms about Captain Moray’s neck, and as if that were not sufficient, I heard you acknowledge your love for him.” Laurence played her next card with praiseworthy determination. “Well--and what of it?” she said. “You chose to spy upon me, but you have merely discovered a mare’s nest. Since you want the truth, I’ll give it to you on all-fours. Captain Moray and I have known each other since childhood, and there has always been a deep affection between us. Hearing of my arrival in Paris, he hastened to call upon me at the Embassy. I was out, and later on I sent him a _petit-bleu_ inviting him here to-night _with several other friends_ ... and--your assent. As to my greeting to him, it is perfectly natural and proper after so many years’ separation; nothing more than it should have been. Are you satisfied?” “No!” answered Régis, looking down at her with a grim smile, and suddenly she came face to face with her position. What could she offer the Marquis to win him over, to silence him? She was dealing with a man who--so to speak--held the best cards. Would he play them? She breathed hard, for she was passing in those short seconds through æons of torture. Her high position, her whole future, her as yet unblemished name, were utterly and completely at Régis’s mercy. “What more do you want, then?” she asked at last, in a lowered voice that was shaking with dread and anger. She broke off with a ghastly forced laugh, and attempted to meet his straight glance with sullen, defiant eyes, but her gaze slowly fell before his own.