"What could I do," he murmured. "I was all alone . . . against so many. . . ."
"You said that you would get on the track of the thieves," she urged, "and father told you that he would speak with M. le Comte d'Artois as soon as possible. Monsieur has promised that an armed patrol would be sent out to you, and would be on the lookout for you on the road."
"An armed patrol would be no use. I came back on purpose to stop one being sent."
"But why, in Heaven's name?" exclaimed the Duchesse.
"Because a troop of deserters with that traitor Victor de Marmont is scouring the road, and . . ."
"We know that," said Crystal, "we were stopped by them last night, after you left us. They were after the money for the usurper, who had sent them, and I thanked God that twenty-five millions had enriched a common thief rather than the Corsican brigand."
"Surely, Maurice," said the Duchesse with her usual tartness, "you were not fool enough to allow the King's money to fall into that abominable de Marmont's hands?"
"How could I help it?" now exclaimed the young man, as if driven to the extremity of despair. "The whole thing was a huge plot beyond one man's power to cope with. I tracked the thieves," he continued with vehemence as eager as Crystal's, "I tracked them to a lonely hostelry off the beaten track—at dead of night—a den of cutthroats and conspirators. I tracked the thief to his lair and forced him to give the money up to me."
"You forced him? . . . Oh! how splendid!" cried Crystal. "But then . . ."
"Ah, then! there was the hideousness of the plot. The thief, feeling himself unmasked, gave up his stolen booty; I forced him to his knees, and five wallets containing twenty-five million francs were safely in my pockets at last."