“Inquire of your servants! Can you dream of such a thing, mademoiselle?”
“What, sir? You fear that I shall be compromised. What of that, if he is only freed?”
M. Daburon could not help admiring her. What sublime devotion in this young girl, whether she spoke the truth or not! He could understand the violence she had been doing to her feelings during the past hour, he who knew her character so well.
“That is not all,” she added; “the key which I threw to Albert, he did not return it to me; he must have forgotten to do so. If it is found in his possession, it will well prove that he was in the garden.”
“I will give orders respecting it, mademoiselle.”
“There is still another thing,” continued Claire; “while I am here, send some one to examine the wall.”
She seemed to think of everything.
“That is already done, mademoiselle,” replied M. Daburon. “I will not hide from you that one of the letters which I have just sent off ordered an examination of your grandmother’s wall, a secret examination, though, be assured.”
Claire rose joyfully, and for the second time held out her hand to the magistrate.
“Oh, thanks!” she said, “a thousand thanks! Now I can well see that you are with me. But I have still another idea: Albert ought to have the note I wrote on Tuesday.”