"Your lordship has perhaps heard of him? His is a notable name."
"No. Yes. That is to say," replied the earl in some confusion, "unless my memory is at fault, some one of that name figured prominently in the French newspapers about twenty-three years ago. Did your father aid in the escape of a certain prisoner from Valàgenêt?"
"Your lordship has an excellent memory."
"I was in Brittany at the time of the escape, and the story was in everybody's mouth. The name of the prisoner was—was," pursued the earl, with the air of one striving to recall a forgotten fact, "was Eric Marville, I think."
"I must again commend your lordship's memory."
"Of what crime was this Marville found guilty?"
"He was accused of murder."
"Murder. Ay! so it was. I remember now," replied the earl with a thoughtful air.
Few could have surmised from his manner that in recalling the name of Eric Marville he was, in reality, speaking of himself, and Lorelie found herself in a state of doubt again.
"Your father," continued the earl, "was a great friend of this Marville, otherwise he would not have planned and carried out this rescue-plot?"