Yvette shook her head slowly.

“I do not know. She is dangerous. Sometimes she is like a mad woman. You must take care. For myself, I will never see her again.”

“You give your word on that?”

“I have said it. There is nothing more to tell you. So, adieu. Say to mademoiselle that I have repented.”

She opened the door, and as she did so her eye seemed by chance to catch a small picture which hung by the side of the hearth. My back was to the fireplace, and I did not trouble to follow her glance.

“Ah,” she murmured reflectively, “he was the most fine stern man � and he gave me hundred-franc notes.”