The old man released his hand and crossed the room. He stopped before the dark curtain, and then, with a solemn gesture, lifted it. The Marquis leaned forward. This was what he saw: A sheet of iron was fastened to the wall. It was twisted and out of shape. Strange lines were upon it, as if flames had licked it.
"Do you know what that is?" said Labarre.
"No," answered the Marquis, surprised and uneasy.
"I will tell you. Among the Vosges mountains there lived a man, honest and kindly. He was loved by all. He kept an inn, and taught the children of the peasants, to whom he sold wine. Yes, and this man bore one of the noblest names in France. One day cowards killed him, and at the same time other scoundrels and cowards, in obedience to fratricidal commands, attacked the house where he had so long struggled against poverty; other villains again attacked his wife and tried to kill his children. This, Monsieur de Talizac, is the sign that hung on the front of the inn kept by Simon, Marquis de Fongereues, and I defy you, his brother and his murderer, to repeat to me what you have already said in the face of this witness. Pray and entreat, if you will, if you dare—I, the lacquey of your father, reply: Cain! you are stained with the blood of your brother—begone!"
The Marquis uttered a yell of rage.
"Your memory is short, Monsieur de Talizac, and I will remind you that in 1817, one night the good man whom you killed with your infamy lay dying. You had the cruel courage to enter his room, and knelt at the side of his bed——"
"Be silent!" cried the Marquis.
"My master cursed you, cursed you as a murderer! It was a horrible scene—I saw and heard it all. You implored this dying man to have mercy on you and tell you where this money was placed. But my master did not yield, nor will I!"
Deadly pale, and with compressed lips, the Marquis murmured:
"Then you refuse?"