He paused for a moment. I could guess what was coming.
“D’Aurilly has been good enough to represent me in Cadillac’s household, not caring, at first, to trust me to secure for him that black-eyed Valérie, but preferring to rely on his own charms. Well, it appears his charms had no great effect, so, in the end, he was glad to come to me for aid,” and Roquefort looked at his companion with just a spark of malice in his eyes. “It was not until he had managed to join my troop in that brush at Cadillac that I learned the truth—that we have a spy and traitor amongst us. I had suspected it before, when my plans had come to naught, but proof was always lacking. Well, Monsieur, I desire the name of that traitor.”
On that point, at least, I could answer fully.
“M. le Duc,” I said, “I do not know his name. I do not even know his appearance. I know only that one night a man rode into Marsan carrying a message which he gave to my father, who, in turn, entrusted it to me. I saw the man but a moment; it was night, and his face was so well concealed that I caught but a glimpse of it.”
Roquefort was glaring down at me, his mouth working.
“Doubtless the person who cut your bonds the other night was also invisible!” he cried. “Or did you, by any chance, see his face, M. de Marsan?”
My blood leaped back into my heart. I looked into his eyes horrified—seeing myself at the edge of a precipice.
“Well, Monsieur,” said Roquefort after a moment, “I await an answer. Come, your tongue is not so ready.”
The sweat broke out across my forehead as I stood there looking at him. I thought bitterly of the hopes that had sat on my saddle-bow as I rode out from Montauban—it seemed hard that they should end like this. But if Fate willed it—what then? Certainly, I had done my best.
“M. le Duc,” I answered, with what calmness I could, “I have nothing more to say.”