“In short, my dear, we have had our little escapades before our marriage.”

She shrank back as if from some venomous reptile.

To be treated thus! she—­a Courtornieu—­Duchesse de Sairmeuse!

“I think you are laboring under a wrong impression,” she said, haughtily.

He made haste to apologize; but while listening to further details given him by the young lady, he thought: 

“What an eye! what a voice!—­they are not suited to a denizen of the Saint-Denis!”

His suspicions were confirmed by the reward of twenty thousand francs, which Mme. Blanche imprudently promised him in case of success, and by the five hundred francs which she paid in advance.

“And where shall I have the honor of addressing my communications to you, Madame?” he inquired.

“Nowhere,” replied the young lady.  “I shall be passing here from time to time, and I will call.”

When they left the house, Chelteux followed them.

“For once,” he thought, “I believe that fortune smiles upon me.”

To discover the name and rank of his new clients was but child’s play to Fouche’s former pupil.

His task was all the easier since they had no suspicion whatever of his designs.  Mme. Blanche, who had heard his powers of discernment so highly praised, was confident of success.

All the way back to the hotel she was congratulating herself upon the step she had taken.

“In less than a month,” she said to Aunt Medea, “we shall have the child; and it will be a protection to us.”

But the following week she realized the extent of her imprudence.  On visiting Chelteux again, she was received with such marks of respect that she saw at once she was known.

She made an attempt to deceive him, but the detective checked her.

“First of all,” he said, with a good-humored smile, “I ascertain the identity of the persons who honor me with their confidence.  It is a proof of my ability, which I give, gratis.  But Madame need have no fears.  I am discreet by nature and by profession.  Many ladies of the highest ranks are in the position of Madame la Duchesse!”

So Chelteux still believed that the Duchesse de Sairmeuse was searching for her own child.

She did not try to convince him to the contrary.  It was better that he should believe this than suspect the truth.

The condition of Mme. Blanche was now truly pitiable.  She found herself entangled in a net, and each movement far from freeing her, tightened the meshes around her.

Three persons knew the secret that threatened her life and honor.  Under these circumstances, how could she hope to keep that secret inviolate?  She was, moreover, at the mercy of three unscrupulous masters; and before a word, or a gesture, or a look from them, her haughty spirit was compelled to bow in meek subservience.

And her time was no longer at her own disposal.  Martial had returned; and they had taken up their abode at the Hotel de Sairmeuse.