"Madame," he said in French, "Monsieur Cousin?" She turned from the window where she had been watching. "Out on the sands, monsieur," she said in a startled way. "My good man says he is sitting with the new company who have come since yesterday to the house above." "Where is your husband?" "Out, sir. He--he was obliged to go to the _ville_." "And still it is impossible," said Stratton slowly as he looked appealingly in the old man's eyes. "It cannot be true. Brettison, tell me that my mind is wandering; all this is more than I can bear." "Shall I wait, monsieur?" asked the woman, who was trembling visibly. "No, I am better now," said Brettison. "Leave me with my friend,"--and as soon as they were alone--"I shall not want a doctor now. There is some mystery here, Malcolm, lad, far more than we know." "Thank God!" said Stratton, sinking into a chair and covering his face with his hands. "Stratton," cried the old man fiercely, "is it a time to give up weakly like that?" The stricken man started to his feet, and threw back his head as if his friend's words had suddenly galvanised him into life and action. "That man is not to be trusted for an hour. You know it, and yet you stand there leaving her in his hands. Even if it were possible that her father has condoned the past, he does not know what is familiar to us. But he has not. Boy, I tell you there is some mistake." "What shall I do?" said Stratton hoarsely. "Go to them at once. Tell them of his attack upon me." "They have forgotten the past, and will say it is the invention of a jealous enemy." "Then I will go myself," cried the old man; and, feeble though he was, he insisted upon dressing for his self-imposed task. "They will believe me," he said; "and though I can hardly think there is danger to anyone but us, whom Barron seems instinctively to associate with his injury, Sir Mark must know the facts." "Yes," said Stratton gravely; "he must know. I will go with you now. He cannot doubt you." The old man tottered a little, but his strong will supplied the strength, and, taking his stick, they moved toward the door. "We have done wrong, Stratton," he said; "the man should have been denounced. I ought to have acted more wisely, but at first my only thought was to save you from the consequences of your misfortune, and keep all I knew from ever reaching Myra's ears. Our sin has found us out, and there is nothing for it but to make a clean breast now." Stratton hesitated for a few moments. "You are too feeble," he said. "Oh, yes," cried the woman, who came forward. "Monsieur is too ill to go out. It is horrible that he should be so bad at our poor house." "You say your husband is out?" "Oh, yes, monsieur. I begged him not to go, but he said that he must go." "Not to fetch a doctor?" "N-no, monsieur," faltered the woman hysterically. "It is not my fault, monsieur; I begged him not to go--and--_O Ciel_! that it should have happened."