Without a second's hesitation, she replied: "I have none. Not a word, not an incident, in all that you have told me, suggests the least idea to me." "You have no enemies, to your knowledge?" "Personally, no." "What about that man to whom your two assailants were to hand you over and who says that he knows you?" "Doesn't every woman," she said, with a slight blush, "come across men who pursue her more or less openly? I can't tell who it is." The captain was silent for a while and then went on: "When all is said, our only hope of clearing up the matter lies in questioning our prisoner. If he refuses to answer, I shall hand him over to the police, who will know how to get to the bottom of the business." The girl gave a start: "The police?" "Well, of course. What would you have me do with the fellow? He doesn't belong to me. He belongs to the police." "No, no, no!" she exclaimed, excitedly. "Not on any account! What, have my life gone into? . . . Have to appear before the magistrate? . . . Have my name mixed up in all this? . . ." "And yet, Little Mother Coralie, I can't . . ." "Oh, I beg, I beseech you, as my friend, find some way out of it, but don't have me talked about! I don't want to be talked about!" The captain looked at her, somewhat surprised to see her in such a state of agitation, and said: "You sha'n't be talked about, Little Mother Coralie, I promise you." "Then what will you do with that man?" "Well," he said, with a laugh, "I shall begin by asking him politely if he will condescend to answer my questions; then thank him for his civil behavior to you; and lastly beg him to be good enough to go away." He rose: "Do you wish to see him, Little Mother Coralie?" "No," she said, "I am so tired! If you don't want me, question him by yourself. You can tell me about it afterwards. . . ." She seemed quite exhausted by all this fresh excitement and strain, added to all those which already rendered her life as a nurse so hard. The captain did not insist and went out, closing the door of the drawing-room after him. She heard him saying: "Well, Ya-Bon, have you kept a good watch! No news? And how's your prisoner? . . . Ah, there you are, my fine fellow! Have you got your breath back? Oh, I know Ya-Bon's hand is a bit heavy! . . . What's this? Won't you answer? . . . Hallo, what's happened? Hanged if I don't think . . ." A cry escaped him. The girl ran to the hall. She met the captain, who tried to bar her way. "Don't come," he said, in great agitation. "What's the use!" "But you're hurt!" she exclaimed. "I?" "There's blood on your shirt-cuff." "So there is, but it's nothing: it's the man's blood that must have stained me." "Then he was wounded?" "Yes, or at least his mouth was bleeding. Some blood-vessel . . ." "Why, surely Ya-Bon didn't grip as hard as that?" "It wasn't Ya-Bon." "Then who was it?" "His accomplices." "Did they come back?" "Yes; and they've strangled him." "But it's not possible!"