Benedetto hastily ran over the paper and his lips curled contemptuously when he saw the signature.
"The fool wrote his own name," he murmured as he rubbed his hands, "may it do him good."
The next minute the secretary of Count Vellini disappeared, and Anselmo breathed more freely.
Suddenly an idea flew through his brain as his gaze fell upon the bank-notes.
"We will fly," he muttered to himself, "now, this very hour! This demon knows everything; we are not safe from him, and if an accident happens to Jane—"
In desperation he walked up and down the room and disconnected words came from his lips.
"Who will guarantee me that he will keep silent? Oh, he was always a wretch—to-morrow at four o'clock we can take the train—we will go to England and from there to America."
He paused, and, going to the window, listened. Everything was quiet and Anselmo noticed that a rain shed connected the count's house with that of Madame Vollard. Benedetto's visit was probably undiscovered, and a great deal depended on that.
"I will wake Jane," said Anselmo after a short pause, "I will tell her an excuse, and since she believes in me, she will be ready at once to follow me! I will tell her I am in danger and must leave France."