As the carriage with the bishop and his chaplain rolled out of the white gates, a man on horseback passed it, who had the appearance of having ridden hard. Léon, his wife, and his sisters were still standing by the entrance as he clattered up.
“The Baron de Beaudrillart?” he said taking off his hat.
“Here.” Léon stepped forward with a white face.
“Monsieur Rodoin sent me down with this for monsieur,” he said, handing a letter.
He tore it open.
“I think it well to inform you that Monsieur Lemaire intends proceeding to extremes; that he has instructed the Procureur de la République, and that in all probability you will be arrested to-morrow or the next day. I have learned this from a sure source.”