“Finally, M. Thomas Elgin assured me that Sarah Brandon had been your mistress, and that the marriage with my father took place only in consequence of a quarrel between you.”

Daniel had listened to her, trembling with indignation.  He now cried out,—­

“And you could believe these false calumnies!  Oh, no, no! tell me that there is no need for me to justify myself to”—­

Then turning to Papa Ravinet, he said,—­

“Suppose, we admit, for a moment, that she might have been in love, as you say, what would that prove?”

The cunning old dealer remained apparently unmoved for a time; but his small eyes were sparkling with malicious delight and satisfaction.

“Ah! you would not talk so, if you knew Sarah Brandon’s antecedents as well as I do.  Ask my sister about her and Maxime de Brevan, and she will tell you why I look upon that apparently trifling circumstance as so very important.”

Mrs. Bertolle made a sign that she assented; and he, sure, henceforth, that his sagacity had not been at fault, continued,—­

“Pardon me, M. Champcey, if I insist, and especially if I do so in Miss Henrietta’s presence; but our interest, I might almost say our safety, requires it.  Maxime de Brevan is caught, to be sure; but he is only a vulgar criminal; and we have, as yet, neither Thomas Elgin, nor Mrs. Brian, who are far more formidable, nor, above all, Sarah Brandon, who is a thousand times more wicked, and more guilty, than all the rest.  You will tell me that we have ninety-nine chances out of a hundred on our side; maybe!  Only a single, slight mistake may lead us altogether astray; and then there is an end to all our hopes, and these rascals triumph after all!”

He was but too right.  Daniel felt it; and hence he said, without hesitating any longer, but looking stealthily at Henrietta’s face,—­

“Since that is so, I will not conceal from you that the Countess Sarah has written me a dozen letters of at least extraordinary nature.”

“You have kept them, I hope?”

“Yes; they are all in one of my trunks.”

Papa Ravinet was evidently much embarrassed; but at last he said,—­

“Ah! if I might dare?  But no; it would be asking too much, perhaps, to beg you to let me see them?”

He did not know how ready Daniel was to grant the request.  Ready as he was, to tell Henrietta everything, he could not but wish that she should read these letters, as she would see from them, that, if the countess had written to him, he had never returned an answer.

“You can never ask too much, M. Ravinet,” he replied.  “Lefloch, my servant, must have come up by this time with the trunks; and, if you give me time to go down to my room, you shall have the letters at once.”

He was on the point of leaving the room, when the old dealer held him back, and said,—­

“Sir, you forget the man who has been following you all the way from Marseilles.  Wait till my sister has made sure that there is nobody watching you.”