“You must think us all mad—at our games of cross-purposes,” he said. “It appears that there is gold in the two estates—and gold has accounted for most human madnesses. Where the abbé has drawn this line there lies the gold—beyond the dreams of avarice, mademoiselle. And Colonel Gilbert was the only man who knew it. So you understand Gilbert, at all events.”
“You did not know it when I asked your advice in Paris?”
“I learnt it two hours ago from the Abbé Susini; so I hastened here to claim the whole of it,” answered Lory, with a laugh.
But Denise was grave.
“But you knew that Perucca was never mine,” she persisted.
“Yes, I knew that, but then Perucca was valueless. So soon as I knew its value, I reclaimed it.”
“I warn Monsieur de Vasselot that such frankness is imprudent; he may regret it,” put in the notary with a solemn face. And Denise gave him a glance of withering pity. The poor man, it seemed, was quite at sea.
“Thank you,” laughed de Vasselot. “I only judge myself as the world will judge me. You were very rich, mademoiselle, and I have made you very poor.”
Denise glanced at him, and said nothing. And de Vasselot's breath came rather quickly.
“But the Casa Perucca is at your disposal so long as you may choose to live there,” he continued. “My father is to be buried at Olmeta to-morrow, but I cannot even remain to attend the funeral. So I need not assure you that I do not want the Casa Perucca for myself.”