“If the baron escapes, justice will demand to know who aided him.”
Martial laughed.
“If justice seeks to know, she will find a culprit of my providing. Go now; I have told you all. I had but one person to fear: that was yourself. A trusty messenger requested you to join me here. You came; you know all, you have agreed to remain neutral. I am tranquil. The baron will be safe in Piedmont when the sun rises.”
He picked up his lantern, and added, gayly:
“But let us go—my father cannot harangue those soldiers forever.”
“But,” insisted M. de Courtornieu, “you have not told me——”
“I will tell you all, but not here. Come, come!”
They went out, locking the door behind them; and then the baron rose from his knees.
All sorts of contradictory ideas, doubts, and conjectures filled his mind.
What could this letter have contained? Why had not Chanlouineau used it to procure his own salvation? Who would have believed that Martial would be so faithful to a promise wrested from him by threats?