An instant he remained in that bowed attitude with head half-raised.

Then suddenly straightening himself he swung round and came face to face with Cecile Deshaix.
Confronting each other and very close they now stood and each was breathing with more than normal quickness.

Her cheeks were white, her nostrils dilated and quivering, her blue eyes baleful and cruel, whilst her lips wore never so faint a smile.

For a second La Boulaye looked the very picture of foolishness and alarm.

Then it seemed as if he drew a curtain, and his face assumed the expressionless mask that was habitual to it in moments of great tension.