of his features. His face was transformed, his lips had become
perfectly white, and his eyes seemed to be starting from their
sockets. "How came you here?" he asked, in a husky voice.

"Your servants ushered me into this room."

"Who are you?"

"What! monsieur, don't you recognize me?" rejoined Pascal, who in
his agitation forgot that the baron had seen him only twice
before. He forgot the absence of his beard, his almost ragged
clothing, and all the precautions he had taken to render
recognition impossible.

"I have never met any person named Maumejan," said the baron.

"Ah! monsieur, that's not my name. Have you forgotten the
innocent man who was caught in that infamous snare set for him by
the Viscount de Coralth?"

"Yes, yes," replied the baron, "I remember you now." And then
recollecting the terrible scene that had just taken place in the
adjoining room: "How long have you been here?" he asked.

Should Pascal tell a falsehood, or confess the truth? He
hesitated, but his hesitation lasted scarcely the tenth part of a
second. "I have been here about half an hour," he replied.

The baron's livid cheeks suddenly became purple, his eyes
glittered, and it seemed by his threatening gesture as if he were