“Wait until you have seen more of them!” she retorted, with a flash of her old spirit, and started down the stair. But at the second step she stopped and turned back to me. “M. de Tavernay,” she said, looking up at me with shining eyes, “you must promise me one thing.”
“What is that, mademoiselle?”
“If there is any danger you will call me.”
“Very well,” I said quietly, after a moment, “I promise.”
“Thank you,” she said; and waving her hand to me, disappeared down the stair.
M. le Comte was back a moment later, the shadow still dark across his face. He came directly to the spot where Pasdeloup and I stood leaning against the wall.
“Now, Pasdeloup,” he said, “tell me what you know of this affair. I confess that I do not in the least understand it. And I want the worst—mind you, the worst! I want to know the very uttermost we shall have to face. Who was it set these peasants on? Who set that trap for me this morning? Whose hand is it aiming these blows at me?”
For a moment Pasdeloup hesitated, staring from his master down at the château and back again.
“You remember Goujon, monsieur?” he asked at last; and it seemed to me that I had heard the name, though I could not remember where.
“Goujon?” repeated M. le Comte. “No; who is he?”