"My life--which I admit, Professor Frowenfeld, is of little value compared with such a one as yours--has been--if not attempted, at least threatened."
"How?" cried Raoul.
"H-really, Professor, we must agree that a trifle like that ought not to make old Agricola Fusilier nervous. But I find it painful, sir, very painful. I can lift up this right hand, Joseph, and swear I never gave a slave--man or woman--a blow in my life but according to my notion of justice. And now to find my life attempted by former slaves of my own household, and taunted with the righteous hamstringing of a dangerous runaway! But they have apprehended the miscreants; one is actually in hand, and justice will take its course; trust the Grandissimes for that--though, really, Joseph, I assure you, I counselled leniency."
"Do you say they have caught her?" Frowenfeld's question was sudden and excited; but the next moment he had controlled himself.
"H-h-my son, I did not say it was a 'her'!"
"Was it not Clemence? Have they caught her?"
"H-yes--"
The apothecary turned to Raoul.
"Go tell Honoré Grandissime."
"But, Professor Frowenfeld--" began Agricola.