"Who—who is the Marquis de Chatillon?" "Your adopted son, Thames Darrell," answered Winifred. But some little distance behind him, someone had come out from the shadow of the building and, seeing the Frenchman reappear, darted back again as quickly. White was scattered across the long stretches of pine trees and corn fields. He rested on one elbow. "We work together no more. "Fool!" he cried, "do you think I wouldn't have secured you before this if I hadn't some motive for my forbearance?" "And that motive is fear," replied Jack contemptuously.
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