"Your assurance on that point, Monsieur, is naturally most valuable! What he told us about yourself, for instance, was of so little moment, was it not?"
"Of very little," returned La Vireville hardily. "You probably knew it already. . . . Come, Madame, let us play with our cards on the table. I know yours, even if you do not display them, and you, I fancy, know mine now. Do not think to keep up any longer this farce of having sent the child home. You have shipped him over to France. God knows of what use the revelations of a child of five or six can be to the Committee of Public Safety, even if he do reveal anything to them, and that I am certain he would never do unless he were tricked into it, as you tricked him."
"Ah, Monsieur," said the old lady, smiling, "you speak as a man, and a strong man. It is not so difficult to make a small boy speak—or remember!"
A thrill of fear and abhorrence ran down La Vireville's spine, and he drew back from the table on which he was leaning.
"No, no!" said Mme. de Chaulnes, putting up a delicate mittened hand. "No, nothing of that sort was necessary. Angèle here can testify to that. We were old friends of his father's, devoted Royalists—what need for more? But if he were obstinate, I could not answer . . ."
The mask was off now. They had sent him to France, then.
"Madame, where is he?" asked La Vireville sternly. "It is I who can put force in motion here, remember!"
"You threaten us with those same repugnant methods, then, Monsieur?"
"God forbid! I merely want to come to terms. If the child has already reached France——"
"Then neither you, Monsieur, whatever power you may command here, nor his grandfather, nor all the magistrates' warrants in England will get him out again—no, not the whole British Army!"