She could smell the savory tinge of his sweat in the air. The day before this examination was appointed to take place—the third of the prisoner's detention—an old man, respectably dressed, requested permission to see him. CHAPTER XXVIII. He was draining a glass, and as he set it down he shuddered. She listened, her suspicions confirmed. At any rate, it would be good to hear him saying the sort of things he did—perhaps now she would grasp them better—with this world-shaking secret brandishing itself about inside her head within a yard of him. She staggered to the fireplace and thrust it into the heart of the dying flames. He hated himself a little for it. "She may yet be saved. “Dear friend,” she said, “remember that you are speaking to one who has failed in the only serious object which she has ever sought to accomplish. ” He released her hand and talked in eager undertones against an auditory background of urgency and distress. At present I cannot marry, I will not become bound even to any one. I’ve made an ally of her champion. "Who—who is the Marquis de Chatillon?" "Your adopted son, Thames Darrell," answered Winifred.
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