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Updated: May 16, 2025
You are tired, m'sieu, that is your bunk." Reese Beaudin held out a hand. The bulk of the two stood out in the lamp-glow, and Joe Delesse was so much the bigger man that his hand was half again the size of Reese Beaudin's. They gripped. And then a strange look went over the face of Joe Delesse. A cry came from out of his beard. His mouth grew twisted.
But it was not the barrenness of what he imagined was to be his new prison that held his eyes in staring inquiry on Croisset. It was the look in his companion's face, the yellow pallor of fear a horror that had taken possession of it. The half-breed closed and bolted the door, and then sat down beside the table, his thin face peering up through the sickly lamp-glow at the engineer.
His eyes were gray, smiling steel. "Close the door after me and lock it until I return," he said. "You are the first woman guest I ever had, Ladygray. I cannot allow you to be insulted!" As he went out she saw him slip something from his pocket. She caught the glitter of it in the lamp-glow. It was in the blood of John Aldous to kill Quade.
He could hear her moving about quickly in her room. An interval of silence followed. Another five minutes passed ten fifteen. He tapped at the door again. This time it was opened. He stared, amazed at the change in Marette. She had stepped back from the door to let him enter, and stood full in the lamp-glow.
The girl moved aside; and on tiptoe Phyllis passed in. She walked to where, between the lamp-glow and the fire-glow, she was lighted up. White satin her first low-cut dress the flush of her first supper party a gardenia at her breast, another in her fingers! Oh! what a pity he was asleep! How red he looked! How funnily old men breathed! And mysteriously, as a child might, she whispered: "Guardy!"
She had turned, and was looking back toward the room where she had left her husband. Her beautiful hair was loose, and fell in lustrous masses to her hips. She was listening. And in that moment Philip heard a low, passionate sob. She turned her face toward him again, and he could see it drawn with agony. In the lamp-glow her hands were clasped at her partly bared breast.
He could hear her moving about quickly in her room. An interval of silence followed. Another five minutes passed ten fifteen. He tapped at the door again. This time it was opened. He stared, amazed at the change in Marette. She had stepped back from the door to let him enter, and stood full in the lamp-glow.
He turned down Pierre's shirt, and in the lamp-glow there glistened the golden locket. For the first time he noticed it closely. It was half as large as the palm of his hand, and very thin, and he saw that it was bent and twisted. A shudder ran through him when he understood what had happened. The bullet that had killed Pierre had first struck the locket, and had burst it partly open.
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