Percy, you cannot forgive me, nor can I ever forgive myself, but if youonly knew what I have suffered for the past two days you would, I think,try and forgive. I am free and yet a prisoner; my every footstep isdogged. What they ultimately mean to do with me I do not know. Andwhen I think of Jeanne I long for the power to end mine own miserableexistence. Percy! she is still in the hands of those fiends.... I sawthe prison register; her name written there has been like a burningbrand on my heart ever since. She was still in prison the day that youleft Paris; to-morrow, to-night mayhap, they will try her, condemn her,torture her, and I dare not go to see you, for I would only be bringingspies to your door. But will you come to me, Percy? It should be safe inthe hours of the night, and the concierge is devoted to me. To-night atten o'clock she will leave the porte-cochere unlatched. If you find itso, and if on the ledge of the window immediately on your left as youenter you find a candle alight, and beside it a scrap of paper with yourinitials S. P. traced on it, then it will be quite safe for you to comeup to my room. It is on the second landing--a door on your right--thattoo I will leave on the latch. But in the name of the woman you lovebest in all the world come at once to me then, and bear in mind, Percy,that the woman I love is threatened with immediate death, and that I ampowerless to save her. Indeed, believe me, I would gladly die even nowbut for the thought of Jeanne, whom I should be leaving in the handsof those fiends. For God's sake, Percy, remember that Jeanne is all theworld to me.
"Poor old Armand," murmured Blakeney with a kindly smile directed at theabsent friend, "he won't trust me even now. He won't trust his Jeanne inmy hands. Well," he added after a while, "after all, I would not entrustMarguerite to anybody else either."