Marescal chafed at the bit. He turned and twisted in his fingers the points of his beard. Should he yield? Was he going to throw himself on his enemy and summon his giants? A storm in a skull, thought Ralph. Poor Rudolph, what use was it to struggle on?
Rudolph did not struggle long. He was too clearsighted not to see that any resistance would make the situation worse. He obeyed therefore with the air of a man who admits that he has to obey. He summoned Philippe and talked to him. Philippe went away with the policemen and the detectives. The front door opened and shut. Marescal had lost the battle.
Ralph turned to Aurelie.
“Everything is in order, Mademoiselle, and we have only to start. Your suit-case is down in the hall, isn’t it?”
She murmured as if she were awaking from a nightmare: “It is possible? No more prison? How did you get——”
“Oh,” he said quickly. “One gets everything one wants from Monsieur Marescal, by the exercise of a [[250]]little tact and reason. He’s a good fellow. Shake hands with him, Mademoiselle.”
Aurelie did not shake hands with him: she shrank away. Besides, Marescal had turned his back on her, and stood with his two elbows on the mantelpiece, his face buried in his hands. She showed a slight hesitation as she passed Bregeac. But he seemed wholly indifferent to her and was wearing a strange air which Ralph was to remember almost immediately.
“One word,” said Ralph, stopping in the doorway. “I undertake, in the presence of Marescal and your step-father, to conduct you to a quiet retreat, where you will not see me at all for a month. In a month I shall come to ask you how you intend to arrange your life. Do you agree?”
“Yes,” she said.
“Then let us go.”