The colonel indulged in a low whistle, and for a moment regarded with absolute admiration the woman he had for a time believed to be his wife. Then he slowly produced his pocket-book, and taking out some notes, placed them before her. She took them up and reckoned the amount. “Not bad for a first bid,” she observed, “and I see you know how to deal. You are a better man of business than I imagined. Say double, and we will call it done.” Again the Senator produced his pocket-book, and once more extracted from its recesses some notes. He placed these before Lucille, and she took them up as before. Once again she arrived at a total. “You are satisfied I shall not disturb you,” she asked. “You can trust me?” “Well, yes, madame, I can,” replied the colonel. “You think quite rightly that I don’t want a scandal. I don’t. But if there is to be one, we may as well have it on a grand scale. If you come back, madame, to annoy me, why then I shall know that I may as well go in for the entire cucumber, and act accordingly.” “You will shoot me?” “I guess it will come to that. You are a woman of great discrimination. I shall remove you, and I can do it with a better grace after you have been away a bit. So you know what to expect. And now, as we have had this friendly chat, there is no reason why we should quarrel. Loo-cill, here’s my hand.” She burst into a bitter laugh. “Do you think I am going to take it? If by grasping it I could make it wither, I would seize it and hold it to my heart.” “Why, what have I done, madame?” “Why, you have robbed me of my last chance. If you had stood by me I might have pulled through. Well, it will be pleasant reading to see a report of your death.” “I daresay it will,” said the colonel, biting his lip until the blood came. “In the meantime you can read this. And now, madame, I have to bid you adoo.” And laying down a marked paper before her, he stalked away. Lucille, left to herself, remained for some moments buried in the deepest thoughts. What should she do next? She had expected the storm, for she had felt that the discovery of her past was only a question of time. So she was not unprepared for the colonel’s desertion. She had taken care to supply herself with a goodly store of diamonds and precious stones, and accordingly for the moment was not within the reach of want. The bundle of notes she had extracted from the Senator’s pocket-book represented a considerable sum, and added to the total of the value of her worldly goods. Then she had her beauty. She looked into the mirror and shuddered. What would her husband do when he escaped from the prison walls? It was the question she had asked herself a hundred times. It was the question that had been suggested to her not an hour ago. It would be a terrible day of reckoning. “He will kill me,” she muttered. “He has more pluck than this blustering American. He will kill me. Well, and if he does, what does it matter?”