"It is the end!" Peter muttered. "Yesterday I should have regretted the passing of a brave enemy. To-day I hail with joy the death of a brute." The Baroness, who had been sitting upon a garden seat, sobbing, came softly up to them. She laid her fingers upon Peter's arm imploringly. "You will not leave me friendless?" she begged. "The papers I promised you are destroyed, but many of his secrets are here." She tapped her forehead. "Madame," Peter answered, "I have no wish to know them. Years ago I swore that the passing of Bernadine should mark my own retirement from the world in which we both lived. I shall keep my word. To-night Bernadine is dead. To-night, Sogrange, my work is finished." The Baroness began to sob again. "And I thought that you were a man," she moaned, "so gallant, so honourable----" "Madame," Sogrange intervened, "I shall commend you to the pension list of the Double Four." She dried her eyes. "It is not money only I want," she whispered, her eyes following Peter. Sogrange shook his head. "You have never seen the Baroness de Grost?" he asked her. "But no!" "Ah!" Sogrange murmured. "Our escort, madame, is at your service--so far as London."