"Pshaw, what do I care!" said the man. "After all, he's dead, isn't he? Quite dead."
"His name," said Lupin.
"His name? The Chevalier de Malreich."
Lupin gave a jump in his chair:
"What? What do you say? The Chevalier—say it again—the Chevalier . . . ?"
"Raoul de Malreich."
A long pause. Lupin, with his eyes fixed before him, thought of the mad girl at Veldenz, who had died by poison: Isilda bore the same name, Malreich. And it was the name borne by the small French noble who came to the court of Veldenz in the eighteenth century.
He resumed his questions:
"What country did this Malreich belong to?"
"He was of French origin, but born in Germany . . . I saw some papers once . . . that was how I came to know his name. . . . Oh, if he had found it out, he would have wrung my neck, I believe!"