Master of himself when near her, and sure that he would ever remain the same, it was easy to play the part of lover with that perfection and that charm which—­sad as it is to say it—­the real passion seldom or never attains.  He was assisted by his self-love, and also by that instinct of duplicity which leads a man to contradict his thoughts by his acts.

But while he seemed to be occupied only with thoughts of his approaching marriage, his mind was full of intense anxiety concerning Baron d’Escorval.

What had become of the baron and of Bavois after their escape?  What had become of those who were awaiting them on the rocks—­for Martial knew all their plans—­Mme. d’Escorval and Marie-Anne, the abbe and Maurice, and the four officers?

There were, then, ten persons in all who had disappeared.  And Martial asked himself again and again, how it could be possible for so many individuals to mysteriously disappear, leaving no trace behind them.

“It unquestionably denotes a superior ability,” thought Martial, “I recognize the hand of the priest.”

It was, indeed, remarkable, since the search ordered by the Duc de Sairmeuse and the marquis had been pursued with feverish activity, greatly to the terror of those who had instituted it.  Still what could they do?  They had imprudently excited the zeal of their subordinates, and now they were unable to moderate it.  But fortunately all efforts to discover the fugitives had proved unavailing.

One witness testified, however, that on the morning of the escape, he met, just before daybreak, a party of about a dozen persons, men and women, who seemed to be carrying a dead body.

This circumstance, taken in connection with the broken rope and the blood-stains, made Martial tremble.

He had also been strongly impressed by another circumstance, which was revealed as the investigation progressed.

All the soldiers who were on guard that eventful night were interrogated.  One of them testified as follows: 

“I was on guard in the corridor communicating with the prisoner’s apartment in the tower, when at about half-past two o’clock, after Lacheneur had been placed in his cell, I saw an officer approaching me.  I challenged him; he gave me the countersign, and, naturally, I allowed him to pass.  He went down the corridor, and entered the room adjoining that in which Monsieur d’Escorval was confined.  He remained there about five minutes.”

“Did you recognize this officer?” Martial eagerly inquired.

And the soldier answered:  “No.  He wore a large cloak, the collar of which was turned up so high that it covered his face to the very eyes.”

Who could this mysterious officer have been?  What was he doing in the room where the ropes had been deposited?

Martial racked his brain to discover an answer to these questions.

The Marquis de Courtornieu himself seemed much disturbed.