ANTOINE had edged closer. His whole conduct had been exposed so violently, without a single action remaining cloaked, that he had begun to lose his expression of indifferent irony. It must be remembered, also, that the chloroform had plunged him into a state of physical depression, that his nervous system was thoroughly shaken, and above all that he was fighting an enemy whose power and knowledge he little suspected. Standing in front of Jean, he trembled with suppressed fury, compelled by a stronger will than his own to hear the other out to the end. He began gulping in brief, angry sentences.
“Liar! You miserable blackguard! This is all jealousy on your part!”
“Maybe,” cried d’Enneris, turning abruptly round on him and at last accepting the direct encounter he had so far refused. “Mayb
