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Updated: May 5, 2025
"Forty thousand francs, counted out there on my desk! I see them yet, counted and placed in the hand of the Marquis de Valorsay in exchange for his signature. My savings for a number of years, and I have only a worthless scrap of paper to show for them. That cursed marquis! And he was to come here this evening, and I was to give him ten thousand francs more. They are lying there in that drawer.
But on the other hand, if she kept the letter, Madame Leon would immediately discover its loss, and an explanation would be unavoidable. M. de Valorsay would be worsted, but not annihilated, and the plans which made the physician's intervention a necessity would never be revealed. She thought of hastening to her friend the old magistrate; but he lived a long way off, and time was pressing.
His condition was not unlike that of a man who, after falling to the bottom of a precipice, is dragging himself up, all mangled and bleeding, swearing that he will yet save himself, when suddenly a heavy stone which he had loosened in his descent, falls forward and crushes him. All that he had so far endured was nothing in comparison with the thought that Valorsay would wed Marguerite.
The future that had seemed so gloomy only a moment before, had now suddenly brightened. By means of the negative in the keeping of the photographer, Carjat, she had the Marquis de Valorsay in her power, and the magistrate, thanks to the numbers of the bank-notes, could soon prove the guilt of the Fondeges. The protection of Providence was made evident in an unmistakable manner.
"Impossible!" he exclaimed; "absolutely impossible! M. de Valorsay is incapable of the villainy you ascribe to him. What do I say? he is even above suspicion. I have known him for years, and I have never met a more loyal, more honorable, or more courageous man. He is one of my few trusted friends; we see each other almost every day. I am expecting a visit from him even now."
The newspaper reporters were constantly mentioning his name, and the sporting journals never failed to chronicle his departure from Paris or his arrival in the city. Unfortunately, such a life of busy idleness has its trials and its vicissitudes, and M. de Valorsay was a living proof of this.
If there is one, this devil of a girl, suddenly becoming her own mistress, and wealthy into the bargain, will send Monsieur de Valorsay about his business, especially if she loves another, as he himself admits and in that case, again good evening!"
It seemed such a perfectly natural thing to M. de Valorsay that Maumejan, as one of the baron's business agents, should be received at his house, that he was not in the least disturbed. But M. de Coralth, having heard the name, wished to see the man who had aided and advised the marquius so effectually. He abruptly turned, and as he did so the words he would have spoken died upon his lips.
The doctor was now ready to find traces of any poison whatsoever in the Count de Chalusse's exhumed remains. He pressed the marquis's hand and then went off, exclaiming: "Whatever happens you can count upon me." Left alone with the Viscount de Coralth, and consequently freed from all restraint, M. de Valorsay rose with a long-drawn sigh of relief. "What an interminable seance!" he growled.
He seemed fated to blunder in this affair. "Well, yes," he declared, "it's true. Valorsay HAS defrauded me, and I have sworn to have my revenge. I won't rest until I see him ruined." Mademoiselle Marguerite was partially reassured, for she understood his zeal now. Her scorn for the man was only increased; but she was convinced that he would serve her faithfully.
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