"I knew of the secret drawer; I had seen madame open it; I knew what it contained. But I was faithful to madame; I loved her; I was glad that she had found some one.... Madame will remember her despair, her horror, when she entered her room to find the cabinet gone, taken away, sold by that.... I, too, was in despair--I desired with my whole soul to help madame. That night I had a rendezvous with him," and she nodded toward the photograph which lay upon the floor. "I told him." Her mistress stood as though turned to stone. I could guess her anguish and humiliation. "He questioned me--he learned everything--the drawer, how it was opened--all. But I did not suspect what was in his mind--not for an instant did I suspect. But on the boat I saw him, and then I knew. Well, he has got what he deserved!" She shivered and pressed her hands against her eyes. "I think that is all, madame," she added, hoarsely. "It is all of that story," said Godfrey, in a crisp voice; "but there is another." "Another?" echoed the veiled lady, looking at him. "Ask her, madame, for what purpose she called at this house, night before last, and saw Philip Vantine in this room." "I did not!" shrieked the girl, her face ablaze. "It is a lie!" "She does not need to tell!" went on Godfrey inexorably. "Any fool could guess. She came for the letters! She had resolved herself to blackmail you, madame!" "It is a lie!" shrieked the girl again. "I came hoping to save her --to...." A storm of angry sobbing choked her. I could see how the veiled lady was trembling. I placed a chair for her, and she sank into it with a murmur of thanks. "Besides, we have a witness to her visit," added Godfrey. "Shall I call the police, madame?" "No, no!" and the girl sat upright again, her face ghastly. "I will tell. I will tell all. Give me but a moment!" She sat there, struggling for self-control, her streaked and grotesque countenance contorted with emotion. Then I saw her eyes widen, and, glancing around, I saw that Rogers had dragged himself to a sitting posture, and was staring at her, his face livid. The sight of him seemed to madden her. "It was you!" she shrieked, and shook her clenched fist at him. "It was you who told! Coward! Coward!" But Godfrey, his face very grim, laid a heavy hand upon her arm. "Be still!" he cried. "He told us nothing! He tried to shield you --though why he should wish to do so...." Rogers broke in with a hollow and ghastly laugh. "It was natural enough, sir," he said hoarsely. "She's my wife!" CHAPTER XVI PHILIP VANTINE'S CALLER It was a sordid story that Rogers gasped out to us; and, as it concerns this tale only incidentally, I shall pass over it as briefly as may be.