Mdlle. de Cardoville, like most carriage-people, was so little acquainted with certain streets of Paris, as well as with the customs of men in office, that she did not doubt for a moment the statements of Baleinier, in whom she reposed the utmost confidence.

When they left the Saint-Dizier House, the doctor had upon his lips a question which he hesitated to put, for fear of endangering himself in the eyes of Adrienne.  The latter had spoken of important interests, the existence of which had been concealed from her.  The doctor, who was an acute and skillful observer, had quite clearly remarked the embarrassment and anxiety of the princess and D’Aigrigny.  He no longer doubted, that the plot directed against Adrienne—­one in which he was the blind agent, in submission to the will of the Order—­related to interests which had been concealed from him, and which, for that very reason, he burned to discover; for every member of the dark conspiracy to which he belonged had necessarily acquired the odious vices inherent to spies and informers—­envy, suspicion, and jealous curiosity.

It is easy to understand, therefore, that Dr. Baleinier, though quite determined to serve the projects of D’Aigrigny, was yet very anxious to learn what had been kept from him.  Conquering his irresolution, and finding the opportunity favorable, and no time to be lost, he said to Adrienne, after a moment’s silence:  “I am going perhaps to ask you a very indiscreet question.  If you think it such, pray do not answer.”

“Nay—­go on, I entreat you.”

“Just now—­a few minutes before the arrival of the commissary of police was announced to your aunt—­you spoke, I think, of some great interests, which had hitherto been concealed from you.”

“Yes, I did so.”

“These words,” continued M. Baleinier, speaking slowly and emphatically, “appeared to make a deep impression on the princess.”

“An impression so deep,” said Adrienne, “that sundry suspicions of mine were changed to certainty.”

“I need not tell you, my charming friend,” resumed M. Baleinier, in a bland tone, “that if I remind you of this circumstance, it is only to offer you my services, in case they should be required.  If not—­and there is the shadow of impropriety in letting me know more—­forget that I have said a word.”

Adrienne became serious and pensive, and, after a silence of some moments, she thus answered Dr. Baleinier:  “On this subject, there are some things that I do not know—­others that I may tell you—­others again that I must keep from you:  but you are so kind to-day, that I am happy to be able to give you a new mark of confidence.”

“Then I wish to know nothing,” said the doctor, with an air of humble deprecation, “for I should have the appearance of accepting a kind of reward; whilst I am paid a thousand times over, by the pleasure I feel in serving you.”

“Listen,” said Adrienne, without attending to the delicate scruples of Dr. Baleinier; “I have powerful reasons for believing that an immense inheritance must, at no very distant period, be divided between the members of my family, all of whom I do not know—­for, after the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes, those from whom we are descended were dispersed in foreign countries, and experienced a great variety of fortunes.”