"And what disposition did he make of the money?"
"He turned a large part of it into diamonds. The rest he left with my foster-father, Simon Sablot, who afterward brought it to my mother in England."
"And the jewels, my daughter, what of them?" asked Father Martien.
"Oh, we carried them to England with us," I answered, inwardly rejoicing to give an answer so little satisfactory. "My mother sold them in London, and invested a part of the money in a little estate at Tre Madoc—the Welles House. The rest is in the hands of my lord, unless he has put it into land."
My uncle stamped his foot and bit his lip with vexation. It seems he thought his brother had left his treasures concealed, and hoped by my means to lay hands upon them. No doubt they would have made a very welcome supply at that time.
"Are you telling the exact truth, daughter?" asked Father Martien sternly.
"I am telling the exact truth, so far as I know it," I answered, with some spirit. "There may be some of the silver still concealed at the Tour d'Antin, but if so, I do not know where it is."
"Where should you think it would be most likely to be hidden?" was the next question.
"That I cannot tell either," I answered; "but I suppose the vault under the tower would be as probable a place as any."
"Is there not a vault under the old chapel?" asked Father Martien.