Camain would not listen. “Then, like a fool, I gave you thirty days in which you were assured of my absence—incredible idiot that I was! And this is the use you have made of them!” His towering rage seemed almost as much with himself as with her; but his scowl was not pleasant to sustain.
“Did I appoint the gardener, Citizen?”
“That is not the question. He got his appointment by chicanery, used it to search Mirabel for hidden treasure in the interests of the Royalists, and you furthered his researches—you who asked me so guilelessly a little time ago for what reason that other man could have broken in.”
“I absolutely deny that I furthered his researches in any way,” retorted Valentine with spirit.
“If you did not actually go and help him dig,” retorted Camain, scowling worse than ever, “you knew of his purpose, and it was your duty to tell me.”
“I wonder if it was,” said Valentine reflectively, almost more to herself than to him.
The irate Georges stared at her a second in amazement. “You are a cool hand!” he exclaimed. “You wonder if it was . . . when I am paying you to look after the place”—a flush rose in Valentine’s cheek—“and when now, in consequence of your silence, if not of your complicity, I am myself in a most unenviable position!”
“I am sorry to hear that, Monsieur le Député,” said Valentine gravely.
“Deuced good of you! It never occurred to you, I suppose, that I was responsible to the Government for Mirabel—even when I was taking down that worthless deposition of yours? Still, you have shown me pretty clearly once that my concerns are less than nothing to you. But let me tell you that, if there is an enquiry, someone else—to whom I begin to think you are under a very heavy debt indeed—will probably come off badly, and that is Suzon Tessier.”
She turned an alarmed face on him. “Not Suzon! What had she to do with it?”