"I will tell you what my impression was," replied the ensign; "however, I will not pretend to assert anything positively; the prince has not, in all probability, abandoned all idea with regard to Flanders; he therefore maintains spies in his employ. The man with the woolen overcoat is a spy, who, on his way here, may possibly have learned the accident which had happened to the musician, and may thus have been the bearer of two pieces of intelligence at the same time."
"That is not improbable," said Henri, thoughtfully; "but what was this man doing when you saw him?"
"He was walking beside the hedge which borders the parterre—you can see the hedge from your windows—and was making toward the conservatories."
"You say, then, that the two travelers, for I believe you stated there were two—"
"Others say that two persons were seen to enter, but I only saw one, the man in the overcoat."
"In that case, then, you have reason to believe that the man in the overcoat, as you describe him, is living in the conservatories."
"It is not unlikely."
"And have these conservatories a means of exit?"
"Yes, count, toward the town."
Henri remained silent for some time; his heart was throbbing most violently, for these details, which were apparently matters of indifference to him, who seemed throughout the whole of this mystery as if he were gifted with the power of prevision, were, in reality, full of the deepest interest for him.