They tracked the fugitive to the Mint; but, like hounds at fault, they here lost all scent of their prey. ’ ‘Poor little devil,’ said Gerald, genuinely sorry for her. . She looked at me as though I were some unclean thing, as though my soul were weighted with every sin in the calendar. ‘Do not think—’ he panted, ‘that I am finished—with you, mademoiselle. Imagination, coloured by the obscurity, peopled the air with phantoms. But although startled and clearly afraid, there was no self-consciousness in her gaze and she was standing her ground.
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