Mr. Sabin drew a somewhat exaggerated sigh of relief. "I live," he said, "with one more fear removed. But I must confess," he added, "to a certain amount of curiosity. We have a somewhat tedious journey before us, and several hours at our disposal; would it be asking you too much----"
"Not at all," he said. "A few words will explain everything. I have other matters to speak of with you, but they can wait. As you remark, we have plenty of time before us. Three weeks ago I received a telegram from Brussels. It was from--forgive me, if I do not utter her name in your presence; it seems somehow like sacrilege."
Mr. Sabin bowed; a little red spot was burning through the pallor of his sunken cheeks.
"I was there," Felix continued, "in a matter of twenty-four hours. She was ill--believed herself to be dying. We spoke together of a little event many years old; yet which I venture to think, neither you, nor she, nor I have ever forgotten."
Mr. Sabin pulled down the blind by his side; it was only a stray gleam of wintry sunshine, which had stolen through the grey clouds, but it seemed to dazzle him.
"It had come to her knowledge that you and I were together in London--that you were once more essaying to play a part in civilised and great affairs. And lest our meeting should bring harm about, she told me--something of which I have always been in ignorance."
Mr. Sabin moved uneasily in his seat. He drew his club-foot a little further back; Felix seemed to be looking at it absently.
"She showed me," he continued, "a little pistol; she explained to me that a woman's aim is a most uncertain thing. Besides, you were some distance away, and your spring aside helped you. Then, too, so far as I could see from the mechanism of the thing--it was an old and clumsy affair--it carried low. At any rate the shot, which was doubtless meant for your heart, found a haven in your foot. From her lips I learned for the first time that she, the sweetest and most timid of her sex, had dared to become her own avenger. Life is a sad enough thing, and pleasure is rare, yet I tasted pleasure of the keenest and subtlest kind when she told me that story. I feel even now some slight return of it when I look at your--shall we call deformity, and consider how different a person----"