No sooner had Philip entered the room than his presence seemed to
arouse the older man. He lifted his head slowly, looking toward
the door, and when he saw who stood there he raised one of his
arms from about the girl and held it out to Philip.
"My son!" he said.
In a moment Philip was upon his knees beside Jeanne, and one of
D'Arcambal's heavy hands fell upon his shoulder in a touch that
told him he had come too late to keep back any part of the
terrible story which Jeanne had bared to him. The girl did not
speak when she saw him beside her. It was as if she had expected
him to come, and her hand found his and nestled in it, as cold as
ice.
"I have hurried from the camp," he said. "I tried to overtake
Jeanne. About Pierre's neck I found a locket, and in the locket--
was this--"
He looked into D'Arcambal's haggard face as he gave him the blood-
stained note, and he knew that in the moment that was to come the
master of Fort o' God and his daughter should be alone.
"I will wait in the portrait-room," he said, in a low voice, and
as he rose to his feet he pressed Jeanne's hand to his lips.
The old room was as he had left it weeks before. The picture of
Jeanne's mother still hung with its face to the wall.
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