“Gaston, Marquis of Clameran, Oloron, Lower Pyrenees.”
“Well, does finding out his address assist us?” inquired Raoul, eagerly.
“It may save us: that is all. Let us return to the drawing-room; our absence might be observed. Exert yourself to appear unconcerned and gay. You almost betrayed us once by your agitation.”
“The two women suspect something.”
“Well, suppose they do?”
“The best thing that we can do is escape; the sooner we leave Paris, the better.”
“Do you think we should do any better in London? Don’t be so easily frightened. I am going to plant my batteries, and I warrant they will prove successful.”
They joined the other guests. But, if their conversation had not been overheard their movements had been watched.
Madeleine looked through the half-open door, and saw Clameran consulting her uncle’s note-book, and whispering to Raoul. But what benefit would she derive from this proof of the marquis’s villany? She knew now that he was plotting to obtain her fortune, and she would be forced to yield it to him; that he had squandered his brother’s fortune, and was now frightened at the prospect of having to account for it. Still this did not explain Raoul’s conduct. Why did he show such fear?
Two hours later, Clameran was on the road to Vesinet with Raoul, explaining to him his plans.