M. Fortunat had left his card--that is to say, his address--and it
would have been an easy matter to send a servant to his house.
She was strongly tempted to do so; but she ultimately decided that
it would be better to wait--that an hour more or less would make
but little difference. She had sent her trusty servant, Job, for
Baron Trigault; he would probably return with the baron at any
moment; and the baron would advise her. He would know at once
what was the best course for her to pursue. And so she waited for
his coming in breathless anxiety; and the more she reflected, the
more imminent her peril seemed, for she realized that M. Fortunat
must be a very dangerous and cunning man. He had set a trap for
her, and she had allowed herself to be caught. Perhaps he had
only suspected the truth when he presented himself at the house.
He had suddenly announced the death of the Count de Chalusse; she
had betrayed herself; and any doubts he might have entertained
were dispelled. "If I had only had sufficient presence of mind to
deny it," she murmured. "If I had only been courageous enough to
reply that I knew absolutely nothing about the person he spoke of.
Ah! then he would have gone away convinced that he was mistaken."
But would the smooth-spoken visitor have declared that he knew
everything, if he had not really penetrated the mystery of her
life? It was scarcely probable.
Pages:
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114