"
The breakfast-table had not been cleared, and a large decanter of
water was still standing on it. The baron poured out two large
glasses, which he drained with feverish avidity, and then he began
to walk aimlessly about the room.
Pascal held his peace. It seemed to him that his own destiny was
being decided in this man's mind, that his whole future depended
upon the determination he arrived at. A prisoner awaiting the
verdict of the jury could not have suffered more intense anxiety.
At last, when a minute, which seemed a century, had elapsed, the
baron paused. "Now as before, M. Ferailleur," he said, roughly,
"I'm for you and with you. Give me your hand--that's right.
Honest people ought to protect and assist one another when
scoundrels assail them. We will reinstate you in public esteem,
monsieur. We will unmask Coralth, and we will crush Valorsay if
we find that he is really the instigator of the infamous plot that
ruined you."
"What, monsieur! Can you doubt it after your conversation with
him?"
The baron shook his head. "I've no doubt but what Valorsay is
ruined financially," said he. "I am certain that my hundred
thousand francs will be lost forever if I lend them to him. I
would be willing to swear that he bet against his own horse and
prevented the animal from winning, as he is accused of doing."
"You must see, then--"
"Excuse me--all this does NOT explain the great discrepancy
between your allegations and his story.
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