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She obeyed him mutely. Her fear of the man was merging into a curious feeling of reliance. She was beginning to realise that her enforced dependence upon him had in some fashion altered his attitude towards her.

“No,” he said at last. “It is not a very serious matter, though it may give you some trouble till it is healed. You will need to keep very quiet, mademoiselle, and”–again momentarily she saw his smile–“avoid agitating yourself as much as possible.”

“You may rely upon me to do that, monsieur,” she returned with dignity; “if I am allowed to do so.”

Again for an instant she felt his eyes upon her, and she thought he frowned; but he made no comment.

Quietly he finished his bandaging before he spoke again.

“If there is any other way in which I can serve you,” he said then, “you have only to command me.”

She turned upon her pillow and faced him. The gradual reviving of her physical strength helped her at least to simulate some of her ancient pride that he had trampled so ruthlessly underfoot.

“What do you mean by that?” she questioned calmly.

He met her look fully and sternly.

“I mean, Mademoiselle Stephanie, precisely what I have said–no more, no less!”

In spite of her utmost effort, she flinched a little. Yet she would not be conquered by a look.

“I am to treat you as my servant, then, monsieur?” she questioned.

He dropped his eyes suddenly from hers.

“If it suits you to do so,” he said.

“The situation is not of my choosing,” she reminded him.

“Nor mine,” he answered drily.

Her heart sank, but with an effort she maintained a fair show of courage.

“Monsieur Dumaresq,” she said, “I think that you mean to be kind. I shall act upon that assumption. Since I am thrown upon your hospitality under circumstances which neither of us would have chosen—-“

“I did not say that, mademoiselle,” he interposed. “I have no quarrel with the gods that govern circumstance. My only regret is that, as my guest, you should be inefficiently served. If you find yourself able to treat me as a servant it will be my pleasure to serve you.”

She did not understand his tone. It seemed to her that he was trying in some fashion to warn her. Again the memory of his kiss swept over her; again to the very heart of her she shrank.

“I think,” she said slowly, “that I am more your prisoner than your guest, Monsieur Dumaresq.”

“It is not always quite wise to express our thoughts,” he rejoined, with deliberate cynicism. “I have ventured to point that out to you before.”

Again he baffled her. She looked at him doubtfully. He was standing up beside her on the point of departure. He returned her gaze with his steely eyes almost as though he challenged her to penetrate to the citadel they guarded.

With a sharp sigh she abandoned the contest. “I wish I understood you,” she said.

He jerked his shoulders expressively.

“You knew me a week ago better than I knew myself,” he remarked. “What more would you have?”

She did not answer him. She only moved her head upon the pillow with a gesture of weariness. She knew that she would search those pitiless eyes in vain for the key to the puzzle, and she only longed to be left alone. He could not, surely, refuse to grant her unspoken desire.

Yet for a moment it seemed that he would prolong the interview. He stood above her, motionless, arrogant, frowning downwards as though he had something more to say. Then, while she waited tensely, dreading the very sound of his voice, his attitude suddenly underwent a change. The thin lips tightened sharply. He turned away.

VII

After he was gone, Stephanie sat up and gazed for a long, long time at the scud of water leaping past the porthole.

She felt stunned by the events of the past twenty-four hours. She could only review them with a numbed amazement. The long suspense had ended so suddenly and so terribly. She could hardly begin to realise that it was indeed over, that the storm she had foreseen for so long had burst at last, sweeping away the Governor in headlong overthrow, and leaving her bruised and battered indeed, but still alive. She had never thought to survive him. She had not loved him, but her lot had been so inextricably bound up with his, that she had never seriously contemplated the possibility of life without him. What would happen to her? she asked herself. How would it end?