“I will tell you,” said Mirelle. “I am ashamed, but I will tell you. The other day, you comprehend, I was mad with rage, quite mad”⁠—she made an eloquent gesture. “My temperament, it is not a patient one. I want to be revenged on you, and so I go to the Comte de la Roche, and I tell him to go to the police and say so-and-so, and so-and-so. But have no fear, Dereek. Not completely did I lose my head; the proof rests with me alone. The police can do nothing without my word, you understand? And now⁠—now?”

She nestled up close to him, looking at him with melting eyes.

He thrust her roughly away from him. She stood there, her breast heaving, her eyes narrowing to catlike slits.

“Be careful, Dereek, be very careful. You have come back to me, have you not?”

“I shall never come back to you,” said Derek steadily.

“Ah!”