“Into what dark depths of shame have we fallen!” he groaned.
“Reassure yourself, monsieur,” replied M. Verduret with great respect. “After what I have been constrained to tell you, what remains to be said is a mere trifle. I will finish the story.
“On leaving Mihonne, who had given him a full account of the misfortunes of Mlle. Valentine de la Verberie, Clameran hastened to London.
“He had no difficulty in finding the farmer’s wife to whom the old countess had intrusted Gaston’s son.
“But here an unexpected disappointment greeted him.
“He learned that the child, whose name was registered on the parish books as Raoul-Valentin Wilson, had died of the croup when eighteen months old.”
“Did anyone state such a fact as that?” interrupted Raoul: “it is false.”
“It was not only stated, but proved, my pretty youth,” replied M. Verduret. “You don’t suppose I am a man to trust to verbal testimony; do you?”
He drew from his pocket several officially stamped documents, with red seals attached, and laid them on the table.
“These are declarations of the nurse, her husband, and four witnesses. Here is an extract from the register of births; this is a certificate of registry of his death; and all these are authenticated at the French Embassy. Now are you satisfied, young man?”