"Are you satisfied?"
"If you fulfil your promise."
"I shall," he answered hoarsely. "And you, on your part, swear before
Heaven that my--my secret shall never pass your lips?"
"I do."
Grasping my hand quickly with cold, trembling fingers, he gripped it as
in a vice, then, bowing stiffly, he said in a low, strained voice--
"_Bon soir, m'sieur. Adieu_."
I murmured some words, expressing a hope that we should never again
meet, and a few seconds later strode out and along the marble corridor
to the great entrance hall.