'That you returned to Paris by the Orleans gate last evening
alone?' he answered, fitting together the ends of his fingers,
and looking at me over them with inscrutable eyes. 'Yes, I knew
all that last night. And now, of your business. You have been
faithful and diligent, I am sure. Where is he?'
I stared at him and was dumb. In some way the strange things I
had seen since I had left my lodgings, the surprises I had found
awaiting me here, had driven my own fortunes, my own peril, out
of my head--until this moment. Now, at this question, all
returned with a rush, and I remembered where I stood. My heart
heaved suddenly in my breast. I strove for a savour of the old
hardihood, but for the moment I could not find a word.
'Well,' he said lightly, a faint smile lifting his moustache.
'You do not speak. You left Auch with him on the twenty-fourth,
M. de Berault. So much I know. And you reached Paris without
him last night. He has not given you the slip?'
'No, Monseigneur,' I muttered.
'Ha! that is good,' he answered, sinking back again in his
chair. 'For the moment--but I knew that I could depend on you.
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