"He is a scoundrel, madame, but evidence is evidence, and we shall take advantage of his if it be necessary. You can punish him--why do you not? Is it that you fear he might blurt out something about your present intimacy with Monsieur Louis' mother and with Maxwell, who visits you disguised with false beard and whiskers? Is it that you fear that this might lead the police to inquire into the reasons for your association with the villain who murdered Monsieur Morgan?" And now I had the satisfaction of seeing her blanch and of knowing that I had hit the nail on the head. "It would make you in some sense an accomplice in the crime. Do you perceive the danger that hangs over you, madame? Do you perceive that your hatred of John Fordham may be carried too far? Intensely disagreeable as it will be to you to assist in proving his innocence, it is your only chance of safety. Decide for yourself; I use no persuasion." "No, you use threats," she said, and I think, if a look from a woman's eyes could kill, I should not be here now to tell my tale. "Hardly that. I have been very frank with you; if I have hurt your feelings permit me to offer you my apologies." "What do you require of me?" she asked. "The address of Monsieur Maxwell, and of Louis Fordham and his mother," I replied. "Nothing more?" "Nothing more." "And then you and your spies will trouble me no more?" "No more than is necessary to protect ourselves from treachery." "I will not be dragged into your witness box," she cried. "I will not--I will not!" I considered a moment. If success continued to attend me--and I believed that it would--we could dispense with her evidence. To be able to lay hands upon John Fordham's enemies this very night was the all-important move in the game. To-morrow they might be out of our reach, and I should be confronted with difficulties that might be unsurmountable. "Every effort shall be made," I said, "not to bring you forward as a witness." And, indeed, as I spoke these words, I was penetrated by a conviction that such evidence as she could give would be of little value; but I kept this to myself. It is not wise to show your weak cards. "You promise it," she said, "on your honor as a gentleman?" "On my honor as a gentleman, madame," I replied, with my hand on my heart, and repressing a smile, "I promise it." To my surprise she sprang to her feet; the devil within her obtained the mastery, and I never heard the human voice express hatred so vindictively and forcibly. The stories I had heard of the female fiend in the French Commune came vividly to my mind; a representative stood before me in the person of Madame Lourbet, as she hissed: "No, I will not help him! I would go in my holiday clothes to see him hanged!" "You shall not have that pleasure, madame," I said. "I wish you good evening."