"What do you want?" demanded the count.
"I am an officer of police; I come to make a search on account of a robbery of diamonds, of which M. de Saint Remy is accused. M. Baudoin, jeweler, has the proofs. If you do not open, sir, I shall be obliged to break in the door."
"A robber already! I was not deceived," said the count, in a low tone.
"I came to kill you—I have delayed too long."
"To kill me!"
"My name is enough dishonored! let us finish: I have two pistols here— you are going to blow out your brains, otherwise I will do it for you, and I will say you killed yourself to escape shame."
And the count, with frightful sang-froid, drew from his pocket a pistol, and with his disengaged hand gave it to his son, saying:
"Come, proceed, if you are not a coward."
After new and fruitless efforts to escape from the bands of the count, his son fell backward, overcome with fright and pale with horror. From the terrible and inexorable looks of his father, he saw there was no pity to expect from him.
"Father!" he cried.
"You must die!"