The vicomte looked steadily into the priest's eyes. There was something lurking in his gaze which would have caused many a brave man to lower his eyes, But there was a vein of fine metal in this priest's composition; and the vicomte's glance broke harmlessly.
"Stare as long and as hard as you please, Monsieur. Shall I ask this question before all these men?"
"I will accompany you." The vicomte had suddenly recovered all his mental balance.
Brother Jacques released his wrists, took up a lighted candle; and the two of them left the room, followed by wondering glances, not the least of these being the Chevalier's, who was at loss to explain the vicomte's sudden docility. The priest and the vicomte soon entered the latter's cabin, and the former placed the candle on the table.
"Yes, Monsieur le Vicomte, where were you on the night of the nineteenth of last February?"
"What is that to you?"
"To me? Nothing. To you? Everything."
"That is a curious question."
"It had power enough to bring you here with me," replied Brother Jacques complacently.
"Why do you wish to know?"