Now he understood the terrible drama which had been enacted in the Widow Chupin’s cabin.
“I must go to Sairmeuse at once,” he said to himself; “there I can discover all.”
He departed without seeing M. d’Escorval. He resisted the temptation to take the letter with him.
It was exactly one month to a day after the death of Mme. Blanche.
Reclining upon a divan in his library the Duc de Sairmeuse was engaged in reading, when Otto, his valet de chambre, came to inform him that a messenger was below, charged with delivering into the duke’s own hands a letter from M. Maurice d’Escorval.
With a bound, Martial was on his feet.
“Is it possible?” he exclaimed.
Then he added, quickly:
“Let the messenger enter.”
A large man, with a very florid complexion, and red hair and beard, timidly handed the duke a letter, he broke the seal, and read: