In spite of his careless words, his face looked haggard and strained. Mirelle leaned forward suddenly.

“You cannot deceive me,” she murmured. “I know⁠—I know what you have done for me.”

He looked up at her sharply. Some undercurrent in her voice arrested his attention. She nodded her head at him.

“Ah! have no fear; I am discreet. You are magnificent! You have a superb courage, but, all the same, it was I who gave you the idea that day, when I said to you in London that accidents sometimes happened. And you are not in danger? The police do not suspect you?”

“What the devil⁠—”

“Hush!”

She held up a slim olive hand with one big emerald on the little finger.