you that Cambray the banker may say what is not true; but the nobleman
cannot lie. _Marquis d'Avoncourt_, do you know to what country your
friend has flown?"

At this question the old gentleman rose from his chair, drew himself up
proudly, and gazing defiantly into the eyes of his questioner, replied:

"I do."

Instantly De Fervlans's manner changed. He became the embodiment of
courtesy. He bowed with extreme politeness, then, slipping his arm
familiarly through that of the prisoner, whispered insinuatingly:

"And what can we do to win this information from you?"

The gray-haired man released himself from De Fervlans's arm, and
answered with quiet irony:

"I will tell you what you can do: have my head cut off, and send it to
M. Bichet, the celebrated professor of anatomy; perhaps he may be able
to discover the information in my skull--if it is there! And now I beg
you to leave me; I wish to be alone."

De Fervlans took up his hat, but turned at the door to say, in a meaning
tone:

"Marquis d'Avoncourt, we shall forget that you are a prisoner so long as
it shall please you to remain obstinate. As for the fugitives, Cythera's
Brigade will capture them, sooner or later. _Au revoir_!"