“Nothing positive, monsieur; but enough to make me nervous, and fearful of impending danger.  I am not certain, but suspect from appearances, that some dreadful catastrophe is about to happen.  It may only be a presentiment.  I cannot get any information from Mme. Fauvel; she refuses to answer any hints, and moves about like a ghost, never opening her lips.  She seems to be afraid of her niece, and to be trying to conceal something from her.”

“What about M. Fauvel?”

“I was just about to tell you, monsieur.  Some fearful misfortune has happened to him, you may depend upon it.  He wanders about as if he had lost his mind.  Something certainly occurred yesterday; his voice even is changed.  He is so harsh and irritable that mademoiselle and M. Lucien were wondering what could be the matter with him.  He seems to be on the eve of giving way to a burst of anger; and there is a wild, strange look about his eyes, especially when he looks at madame.  Yesterday evening, when M. de Clameran was announced, he jumped up, and hurried out of the room, saying that he had some work to do in his study.”

A triumphant exclamation from M. Verduret interrupted Mme. Gypsy.  He was radiant.

“Hein!” he said to Prosper, forgetting his bad humor of a few minutes before; “Hein!  What did I tell you?”

“He has evidently——­”

“Been afraid to give way to his first impulse; of course he has.  He is now seeking for proofs of your assertions.  He must have them by this time.  Did the ladies go out yesterday?”

“Yes, a part of the day.”

“What became of M. Fauvel?”

“The ladies took me with them; we left M. Fauvel at home.”

“Not a doubt of it!” cried the fat man; “he looked for proofs, and found them, too!  Your letter told him exactly where to go.  Ah, Prosper, that unfortunate letter gives more trouble than everything else together.”

These words seemed to throw a sudden light on Mme. Gypsy’s mind.

“I understand it now!” she exclaimed.  “M.  Fauvel knows everything.”

“That is, he thinks he knows everything; and what he has been led to fear, and thinks he has discovered, is worse than the true state of affairs.”

“That accounts for the order which M. Cavaillon overheard him give to his servant-man, Evariste.”

“What order?”

“He told Evariste to bring every letter that came to the house, no matter to whom addressed, into his study, and hand them to him; saying that, if this order was disobeyed, he should be instantly discharged.”

“At what time was this order given?” asked M. Verduret.

“Yesterday afternoon.”

“That is what I was afraid of,” cried M. Verduret.  “He has clearly made up his mind what course to pursue, and is keeping quiet so as to make his vengeance more sure.  The question is, Have we still time to counteract his projects?  Have we time to convince him that the anonymous letter was incorrect in some of its assertions?”