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However, she had regained her self-possession, and it was easy to see by her manner that she was seeking some means of escape from threatened danger. At last she found it. "Casimir," she said, authoritatively, "search M. de Chalusse's pocket for the key of his escritoire." Astonished by what he regarded as a new caprice, the valet obeyed.
Each time I've been to visit M. de Chalusse's I've seen a young lady whom I took for his daughter there. I was wrong, no doubt, since he isn't a married man " He paused. Astonishment and anger seemed to be almost suffocating his hostess.
"You know, monsieur," she said, speaking rapidly in an undertone, "that I am not M. de Chalusse's daughter. You may, therefore, tell me the truth. Is his condition hopeless?" "Alarming yes; hopeless no." "But, monsieur, this terrible unconsciousness " "It usually follows such an attack as he has been the victim of.
Indeed, if M. Fortunat lost forty thousand francs by the Count de Chalusse's death, Chupin expected to make a hundred francs commission on the funeral. "Still, he may have made a will!" pursued M. Fortunat. "But no, I'm sure he hasn't. A poor devil who has only a few sous to leave behind him always takes this precaution.
M. de Chalusse's manner continued kind, and even affectionate; but he had regained his accustomed reserve and self-control, and I realized that it would be useless on my part to question him. At last, after a thirty hours' journey by rail, we again entered the count's berline, drawn by post-horses, and eventually M. de Chalusse said to me: 'Here is Cannes we are at our journey's end.
If I was, you ought to shun me as you would shun a criminal, for I could only be wealthy through a crime." "Mademoiselle " "Yes, through a crime. After M. de Chalusse's death, two million francs that had been placed in his escritoire for safe keeping, could not be found. Who stole the money? I myself have been accused of the theft.
The young girl stifled a sigh, and then, with a gesture of dismissal, she remarked, "M. de Fondege must be sent for." "The General?" "Yes." "I will send for him at once," replied the housekeeper; and thereupon she left the room, closing the door behind her with a vicious slam. The justice of the peace and Mademoiselle Marguerite were at last alone in M. de Chalusse's study.
"Should I live a thousand years I shall never forget the day I left the foundling asylum to become the Count de Chalusse's ward. It was a Saturday, and I had given my answer to the superior on the evening before. The next morning I received a visit from my former employers, who, having been informed of the great change in my prospects, had come to bid me good-bye.
However I know a man, formerly the Count de Chalusse's confidential agent, who might aid you in this task." "And this man's name?" "Is Isidore Fortunat. I saved his card for you. Here it is." M. Wilkie took it up, placed it carefully in his pocket, and then exclaimed: "That being the case, I consent to sign, but after this you need not complain.
After the Count de Chalusse's death, a package of letters, a glove and some withered flowers were found in one of the drawers of his escritoire." The baroness started back as if a yawning chasm had suddenly opened at her feet. "My letters!" she exclaimed. "Ah! wretched woman that I am, he kept them. It is all over! I am lost, for of course, they have been read?"
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