She was still in her old place⁠—still making not a sound. Yet her eyes had followed every one of my movements. Somehow in her face there was a strange expression⁠—an expression which I did not like. I think that I shall not be wrong if I say that it indicated sheer hatred.

Impulsively I approached her.

“Polina,” I said, “here are twenty-five thousand florins⁠—fifty thousand francs, or more. Take them, and tomorrow throw them in De Griers’ face.”

She returned no answer.

“Or, if you should prefer,” I continued, “let me take them to him myself tomorrow⁠—yes, early tomorrow morning. Shall I?”