Marechal appeared through the half-open door with a scared face, and silently handed Madame Desvarennes a card. She glanced at it, turned pale, and said to the secretary:
“Very well, let him wait!” She threw the card on the table. Serge came forward and read:
“Delbarre, sheriff’s officer.”
Haggard-looking and aghast, he turned to the mistress, as if seeking an explanation.
“Well!” she observed: “it is clear, he has come to arrest you.”
Serge rushed to a cabinet, and opening a drawer, took forth some handfuls of gold and notes, which he crammed into his pockets.
“By the back stairs I shall have time to get away. It is my last chance! Keep the man for five minutes only.”
“And if the door is guarded?” asked Madame Desvarennes.
Serge remained abject before her. He felt himself enclosed in a ring which he could not break through.
“One may be prosecuted without being condemned,” he gasped. “You will use your influence, I know, and you will get me out of this mess. I shall be grateful to you for ever, and will do anything you like! But don’t leave me, it would be cowardly!”