“Very well, mademoiselle,” said Bertram Gramont, giving way to his passion, “so you despise and scorn me. I will now prove to you that your words are nought, and that you may yet sue for that which you have despised.”
He was turning to the door, when it opened and Monsieur Plessis entered the room. He and his wife had a few minutes before returned from Havre.
Monsieur Gramont paused, and so did Jean Plessis.
After civilly saluting the maire, he said—
“How is it that I see Madame Coulancourt weeping? has anything occurred to distress you, madame?”
“Monsieur Plessis,” said Bertram Gramont, “you appear to me to be blessed, not only with immense assurance, but also to have a happy knack of keeping your head upon your shoulders. Now, it appears to me this time you have placed it in jeopardy.”
“Pardon, Monsieur le Maire,” interrupted Jean Plessis with a smile, “you must be joking. For years I never felt my head so safe as at this moment. I wished much to see you to speak on the subject of the attempt made to rob me on my journey here.”
Monsieur Gramont visibly started, and at once fiercely said—
“What do you mean, sir? what have I to do with that affair? It was investigated, as far as it was in my power, at the time.”
“True, monsieur,” returned Jean Plessis, calmly, “but I have this day learned that one of the robbers is actually in your château, lying wounded; his eye being knocked out by a splinter of rock, in the affair on Lyon Point.”