Ferailleur sold his
furniture and went away with his mother."
"I am aware of that, and I have come to ask you to search for him.
To discover his hiding-place will be only child's play to you."
"Do you suppose I haven't thought of this?" replied M. Fortunat.
"Why, I spent all day yesterday searching for him. By questioning
the people in the neighborhood I finally succeeded in ascertaining
that Madame Ferailleur left her home in a cab several hours after
her son, and took a very large quantity of baggage with her.
Well, do you know where she drove? To the Western railway station.
I am sure of this, and I know she told a porter there that her
destination was London. M. Ferailleur is now en route for
America, and we shall never hear of him again!"
Mademoiselle Marguerite shook her head. "You are mistaken, sir,"
said she.
"There can be no mistake about what I have just told you."
"I don't question the result of your investigations, but
appearances are deceitful. I thoroughly understand M.
Ferailleur's character, and he is not the man to be crushed by an
infamous calumny. He may seem to fly, he may disappear, he may
conceal himself for a time, but it is only to make his vengeance
more certain. What! Pascal, who is energy itself, who possesses
an iron will, and invincible determination, would he renounce his
honor, his future, and the woman he loves without a struggle? If
he had felt that his case was hopeless, he would have destroyed
himself, and as he has not done so, he is not without hope.
Pages:
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277