But as soon as you became his
wife, he intended to produce it and thus obtain possession of the
count's millions."
"Ah! the old justice of the peace was not mistaken," murmured
Mademoiselle Marguerite.
Pascal did not hear her. All his faculties were absorbed in the
attempt he was making to give a clear and concise explanation, for
he had much to say, and it was growing late. "As for the enormous
sum you have been accused of taking," he continued, "I know what
has become of it; it is in the hands of M. de Fondege."
"I know that, Pascal--I'm sure of it; but the proof, the proof!"
"The proof exists, and, like the will, it is in the hands of the
Marquis de Valorsay."
"Is it possible! Great Heavens! You are sure you are not
deceived?"
"I have seen the proof, and it is overpowering, irrefutable! I
have touched it--I have held it in my hands. And it explains
everything which may have seemed strange and incomprehensible to
you. The letter which M. de Chalusse received on the day of his
death was written by his sister. She asked in it for her share of
the family estate, threatening him with a terrible scandal if he
refused to comply with her request. Had the count decided to
brave this scandal rather than yield? We have good reason to
suppose so. However, this much is certain: he had a terrible
hatred, not so much for his sister, perhaps, as for the man who
had seduced her, and afterward married her, actuated by avaricious
motives alone.
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