'But who is the woman?' I demanded eagerly. 'She's a perfect stranger to me.'
'Ah! but not to me, Claude! That woman!' she gasped, as her gloved hands lying upon her knees clutched convulsively. 'That woman is—she's the Woman with the Leopard's Eyes!'
'That woman!' I ejaculated, amazed. 'Was that really the woman?'
'Yes. But—why is she about here? She means mischief, Claude. She means to do us both harm!'
'And the man?' I asked, bending to her without glancing into her face, for I was driving at increased pace in obedience to her command. 'Who is he?'
'I couldn't see his face—only hers—the fiend!'
'Shall we turn back and watch their movements?' I suggested.
'No, no! A thousand times no!' she shrieked, apparently terrified at such a suggestion. 'Don't go near her. Save me from her—won't you, Claude? If you love me, don't let her approach me. Will you?'
'Trust in me, darling,' I said reassuringly, yet greatly puzzled at the unexpected encounter, and in fear also that sudden sight of the hated woman might bring on another nerve attack.
She drew aside her veil and lifted her close-fitting little motor-hat from her brow, as though its weight oppressed her. Then I noticed how pale and terrified was her face. She had blanched to the very lips.
'Don't trouble about the matter any more,' I
