He paused. There was an uncomfortable silence. Then the curé said coldly,—
“Certainly; I am aware that you mentioned an extraordinary provision to that effect.”
“But,” broke in Fabien with a sneer, “I presume the provisions were scarcely extended to the point of obliging M. Deshoulières to ignore any indirect information that might be supplied to him on the subject, or of declining to be enlightened by letters from myself? Possibly I am mistaken. A will that could do so much may have had the power of enforcing blindness and deafness upon its executor.”
Max, stern, quiet, and self-possessed, answered at once,—
“M. Saint-Martin, I demand an explanation, of words which are to me wholly unintelligible.”
“M. Deshoulières, I demand, on my part, firstly, an explanation of your non-appearance at the Lion d’Or at Pont-huine?”
“So? that is easily given, monsieur. The sudden illness of one of my patients prevented it. In my stead I sent the notary who drew up Monsieur Moreau’s will, and was equally with myself acquainted with its particulars. M. Roulleau spent the afternoon at Pont-huine. As no person appeared, he returned to Charville with the belief that we had been made the victims of a jest.”
M. Fabien laughed. “This, I think, you can disprove,” he said, turning to the curé.
“It was no jest, monsieur,” said the curé, sternly. “You will permit me to remark that all I heard, even from your own lips, of Monsieur Moreau’s last illness, and the extraordinary terms of his will, coupled with the amazing fact of his having chosen as dépositaire a man wholly unknown to him until the morning of his death, appeared to me so unaccountable, not to say suspicious, that I felt it my duty to act in some degree on my own responsibility. I made private inquiries among those whom I considered likely to aid me, and immediately that I succeeded in obtaining a slight clew which it appeared to me might lead to the desired point, I thought it desirable—yes, monsieur, I avow it—to test the sincerity of your professions, by appointing a meeting at the Lion d’Or. Permit me to state that from having myself waited there the whole day in vain, I am in a condition to affirm that no notice was taken of my communication.”
“Allow me, then, in return, to say that you behaved in an indefensible manner, M. le Curé,” replied M. Deshoulières, promptly. “You had no right to indulge in anonymous communications. Nevertheless, I have already informed you of what was done. You can apply to M. Roulleau. Have you any thing more to remark?”