It was a bold ruse and no time must be lost in profiting by it. Martial stretched himself upon a bench, as if to sleep, in such a way that his head was scarcely a yard from that of Otto.
“The duchess is out of danger,” murmured the faithful servant.
“For to-day, perhaps. But to-morrow, through me, all will be known.”
“Have you told them who you are?”
“No; all the policemen but one took me for a vagabond.”
“You must continue to personate this character.”
“What good will it do? Lacheneur will betray me.”
But Martial, though he little knew it, had no need to fear Lacheneur for the present, at least. A few hours before, on his way from the Rainbow to the Poivriere, Jean had been precipitated to the bottom of a stone quarry, and had fractured his skull. The laborers, on returning to their work early in the morning, found him lying there senseless; and at that very moment they were carrying him to the hospital.
Although Otto was ignorant of this circumstance, he did not seem discouraged.
“There will be some way of getting rid of Lacheneur,” said he, “if you will only sustain your present character. An escape is an easy matter when a man has millions at his command.”