“Goodness, how well informed you are!” said Beaumagnan ironically.
“Better informed a great deal than you imagine,” said Ralph quietly.
“And from whom did you get this precious information?” said Beaumagnan with a sneer.
“From a woman.”
“A woman?” Beaumagnan repeated: and there was a sudden note of anxiety in his voice.
“From Josephine Balsamo, Countess of Cagliostro.”
There came a groan from the Baron, a muttered oath from de Bennetot; and Beaumagnan cried in a tone of amazed dismay:
“Josephine Balsamo! Then you knew her!”
Ralph saw his way clearly. Just to drop the name of Josephine in the discussion had been enough to throw his enemies into the worst confusion, and in that confusion he was resolved to keep them. Indeed, so great was that confusion that Beaumagnan had committed the irremediable error of speaking of her as if she were no longer alive. Ralph smiled at him, a disquieting smile.
“D-D-Did you know her? When did you know her? Where? What did she tell you?” stammered Beaumagnan.