She would explain nothing. Jessie urged her to take off her wet cloak, to go and change her gown and shoes; but she refused with angry impatience. "There will be time enough for that afterwards," she said; "what I have to do will not take long, but it must be done at once. Pray be quick." Jessie struggled through her hurried toilet, and followed Christabel along the corridor, without question or exclamation. They went to the door of Baron de Cazalet's room. A light shone under the bottom of the door, and there was the sound of some one stirring within. Christabel knocked, and the door was opened almost instantly by the Baron himself. "Is it the trap?" he asked. "It's an hour too soon." "No, it is I, Monsieur de Cazalet. May I come in for a few minutes? I have something to tell you." "Christabel--my----" He stopped in the midst of that eager exclamation, at sight of the other figure in the background. He was dressed for the day--carefully dressed, like a man who in a crisis of his life wishes to appear at no disadvantage. His pistol-case stood ready on the table. A pair of candles, burnt low in the sockets of the old silver candlesticks, and a heap of charred and torn paper in the fender showed that the Baron had been getting rid of superfluous documents. Christabel went into the room, followed by Jessie, the Baron staring at them both, in blank amazement. He drew an armchair near the expiring fire, and Christabel sank into it, exhausted and half fainting. "What does it all mean?" asked de Cazalet, looking at Jessie, "and why are you here with her?" "Why is she here?" asked Jessie. "There can be no reason except----" She touched her forehead lightly with the tips of her fingers. Christabel saw the action. "No, I am not mad, now," she said, "I believe I have been mad, but that is all over. Monsieur de Cazalet, you and my husband are to fight a duel this morning, on Trebarwith sands." "My dear Mrs. Tregonell, what a strange notion!" "Don't take the trouble to deny anything. I overheard your conversation yesterday afternoon. I know everything." "Would it not have been better to keep the knowledge to yourself, and to remember your promise to me, last night?" "Yes, I remember that promise. I said I would meet you at Bodmin Road, after you had shot my husband." "There was not a word about shooting your husband." "No; but the fact was in our minds, all the same--in yours as well as in mine. Only there was one difference between us. You thought that when you had killed Leonard I would run away with you. That was to be your recompense for murder. I meant that you should kill him, but that you should never see my face again. You would have served my purpose--you would have been the instrument of my revenge!" "Christabel!"