He was silent while I thought my thoughts. I knew full well in the depths of my soul, that to suffer anything to thrust itself between him and me, would be a crime and a blasphemy. Yet I knew it might come to pass. If I told him all about Susan, all about Gibson, all about the letters, he would still have only my word for it that she did not love him in her own way. He would seek Susan to-morrow morning, as appointed, to hear Susan’s own words. And, under the glamour of his presence, what might not Susan say? But light blazed through my brain. I had found the key. I must go back to the Villa. I must track Susan at all costs. I must tell her the whole story of Ruddington’s mistake. Probably she had already come back. I turned to him and said: "Why be ironical and bitter? You have spoken truly. You have to do what is right." He seized both my hands. To him it was the end. "Gertrude," he said, "for the first and last time, my own Gertrude ... so this is Good-bye! Our first meeting is our last. To-morrow ... after it is over ... I shall go straight away. To-morrow is hers. But to-night is ours. Beloved, this is not the end. There are more worlds than this one--this world which some one has cursed for us. For ever, I am all thine. But the waiting will be so long. Beloved, do not say that I may not bid thee Good-bye!" I restrained him gently, for my mind had clouded again with thronging fears. "No," I said; "let us not make the future harder by any weakness in the present." He bowed his head and obeyed. When he looked up, he said quietly: "One practical point before I go. She will not ... I will not, ever be at Ruddington Towers. Traxelby is your old home. The Towers shall be shut up." My eyes filled with tears. "Beloved," I said softly, "good-bye." I gave him my hand, and he held it to his lips. Then I broke from him and fled home. Georgette received me with a volley of outcries about the spoilt dinner. "Where is Susan?" I asked. "She is not come back," said Georgette, retreating towards the kitchen. And then I saw that Georgette was in the secret. "Georgette," I said peremptorily in French, "I insist that you tell me this instant where Susan has gone." Her brow darkened. She looked at me defiantly, and tossed her head. "Come," I commanded, with a rap on the table. "I insist. This moment." "Pardon, Madame," retorted Georgette with Republican spirit, "I am the servant of Madame Dupoirier and the friend of Susan." There was no time to argue. I shifted my ground, and coaxed. "If you are the friend of Susan," I said, "you will answer at once. Something very important has happened. We must find her at once." Georgette hesitated suspiciously before she asked: "Is it about the milord from England, Madame--the milord with all the money?" "Yes, yes, yes!" I said. "It is most important."