Armand, I know. I knew even before Chauvelin came to me, and stood therehoping to gloat over the soul-agony a man who finds that he has beenbetrayed by his dearest friend. But that d--d reprobate did not getthat satisfaction, for I was prepared. Not only do I know, Armand, butI UNDERSTAND. I, who do not know what love is, have realised how small athing is honour, loyalty, or friendship when weighed in the balance of aloved one's need.
To save Jeanne you sold me to Heron and his crowd. We are men, Armand,and the word forgiveness has only been spoken once these past twothousand years, and then it was spoken by Divine lips. But Margueriteloves you, and mayhap soon you will be all that is left her to loveon this earth. Because of this she must never know.... As for you,Armand--well, God help you! But meseems that the hell which you areenduring now is ten thousand times worse than mine. I have heard yourfurtive footsteps in the corridor outside the grated window of thiscell, and would not then have exchanged my hell for yours. Therefore,Armand, and because Marguerite loves you, I would wish to turn to you inthe hour that I need help. I am in a tight corner, but the hour maycome when a comrade's hand might mean life to me. I have thought of you,Armand partly because having taken more than my life, your own belongsto me, and partly because the plan which I have in my mind will carrywith it grave risks for the man who stands by me.
I swore once that never would I risk a comrade's life to save mine own;but matters are so different now... we are both in hell, Armand, and Iin striving to get out of mine will be showing you a way out of yours.
Will you retake possession of your lodgings in the Rue de la CroixBlanche? I should always know then where to find you in an emergency.But if at any time you receive another letter from me, be its contentswhat they may, act in accordance with the letter, and send a copy ofit at once to Ffoulkes or to Marguerite. Keep in close touch with themboth. Tell her I so far forgave your disobedience (there was nothingmore) that I may yet trust my life and mine honour in your hands.
I shall have no means of ascertaining definitely whether you will do allthat I ask; but somehow, Armand, I know that you will.