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"Come, Vere."
He had a sudden wish to take her into the house. But she remained
where she was.
"Could it have been fancy, Monsieur Emile?"
"No doubt."
Her eyes were intensely grave, almost frightened.
"But--just look, will you? Perhaps there really is somebody."
"Where? It's so dark."
Artois hesitated; but Vere's face was full of resolution, and he
turned reluctantly to obey her. As he did so there came to them both
through the dark the sound of a woman crying and sobbing convulsively.
"What is it? Oh, who can it be?" Vere cried out.
She went swiftly towards the sound.
Artois followed, and found her bending down over the figure of a girl
who was crouching against the cliff, and touching her shoulder.
"What is it? What is the matter? Tell me."
The girl looked up, startled, and showed a passionate face that was
horribly disfigured. Upon the right cheek, extending from the temple
almost to the line of the jaw, a razor had cut a sign, a brutal sign
of the cross.


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