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At length abruptly he began to speak.

“Have you,” he asked, “given any thought to your position here? Have you made any plans for yourself in the event of a rising?”

Her eyelids quivered a little, but she did not raise them.

“I do not think,” she said, her voice very low, “that the time has yet come for making plans.”

Dumaresq threw back his head with a movement that seemed to indicate either impatience or surprise.

“You are living on the edge of a volcano,” he told her, with grim force; “and at any moment you may be overwhelmed. Have you never faced that yet? Haven’t you yet begun to realise that Maritas is a hotbed of scoundrels–the very scum and rabble of creation–blackguards whom their own countries have, for the most part, refused to tolerate–some of them half-breeds, all of them savages? Haven’t you yet begun to ask yourself what you may expect from these devils when they take the law into their own hands? I tell you, mademoiselle, it may happen this very night. It may be happening now!”

She raised her eyes at that–dark eyes that gleamed momentarily and were as swiftly lowered. When she spoke, her low voice held a thrill of scorn.

“Not now, monsieur,” she said. “To-night–possibly! But not now–not without you to lead them!”

Pierre Dumaresq made a slight movement. It could not have been called a menace, though it was in a fashion suggestive of violence suppressed–the violence of the baited bull not fully roused to the charge.

“You are not wise, Mademoiselle Stephanie,” he said.

She answered him in a voice that quivered, in spite of her obvious effort to control it.

“Nor am I altogether a fool, monsieur. Your sympathies are well known. The revolutionists have looked to you to lead them as long as I have known Maritas.”

“That may be, mademoiselle,” he sternly responded. “But it is possible, is it not, that they may look in vain?”

Again swiftly her glance flashed upwards.

“Is it possible?” she breathed.

He did not deign to answer.

“I have not come to discuss my position,” he said curtly, “but yours. What are you going to do, mademoiselle? How do you propose to escape?”

She was white now, white to the lips; but she did not shrink.

“I beg that you will not concern yourself on my account,” she said proudly. “I shall no doubt find a means of escape if I need it.”

“Where, mademoiselle?” There was something dogged in the man’s voice, his eyes were relentless in their determination. “Are you intending to look to your stepfather for protection?”

Again, involuntarily almost, she raised her eyes, but they held no fear.

“No, monsieur,” she responded coldly. “I shall find a better way than that.”

“How, mademoiselle?”

The brief question sounded like a threat. She stiffened as she heard it, and stood silent.

“How, mademoiselle?” he said again.

She made a slight gesture of protest.

“Monsieur, it is no one’s concern but my own.”

“And mine,” he said stubbornly.

She shook her head.

“No, monsieur.”

“And mine,” he repeated with emphasis, “since I presume to make it so. You refuse to answer me merely because you know as well as I do that you are caught in a trap from which you are powerless to release yourself. And now listen to me. There is a way out–only one way, mademoiselle–and if you are wise you will take it, without delay. There is only one man in Maritas who can save you. So far as I know, there is only one man willing to attempt it. That man holds you already in the hollow of his hand. You will be wise to make terms with him while you can.”

His tone was curiously calm, almost cynical. His eyes were still fixed unswervingly upon her face. They beat down the haughty surprise with which for a few seconds she encountered them.

“Yes, mademoiselle,” he resumed quietly, as though she had spoken. “He is a man whom you despise from the bottom of your soul; but for all that, he is not wholly despicable. Nor is he incapable of deserving your trust if you will bestow it upon him. It is all a question of trust.” He smiled grimly at the word. “Whatever you expect from him, that you will receive in full measure. He does not disappoint his friends–or his enemies.”