will not believe it, that there is nothing so near Madame d'O's
heart as to get rid of her sister and me--of both of us--that she
may succeed to Madeleine's inheritance! Oh, yes, I had good
grounds for being nervous yesterday, when my wife did not
return," he added excitedly.

"But there at least you wrong Madame d'O!" I cried, shocked and
horrified by an accusation, which seemed so much more dreadful in
the silence and gloom--and withal so much less preposterous than
it might have seemed in the daylight. "There you certainly wrong
her! For shame! M. de Pavannes."

He came a step nearer, and laying a hand on my sleeve peered into
my face. "Did you see a priest with her?" he asked slowly. "A
man called the Coadjutor--a down-looking dog?"

I said--with a shiver of dread, a sudden revulsion of feeling,
born of his manner--that I had. And I explained the part the
priest had taken.

"Then," Pavannes rejoined, "I am right There IS a trap laid for
me. The Abbess of the Ursulines! She abduct my wife? Why, she
is her dearest friend, believe me. It is impossible. She would
be more likely to save her from danger than to--umph! wait a
minute." I did: I waited, dreading what he might discover,
until he muttered, checking himself--"Can that be it? Can it be
that the Abbess did know of some danger threatening us, and would
have put Madeleine in a safe retreat? I wonder!"

And I wondered; and then--well, thoughts are like gunpowder. The