“It’s perfectly simple,” said Ralph. “I can tell you in a few words. With regard to this religious treasure of the middle ages, which you personally want to recover for the treasury of the Society of Jesus, this is how we stand. These offerings flowed through channels in all the provinces into the seven principal abbeys of the Caux country, and constituted a common fund, managed by seven chosen administrators, of whom one only knew the hiding-place of the treasure. Each abbey possessed an episcopal or pastoral ring, which it handed down from generation to generation to its own delegate. As a symbol of its mission, the Council of Seven was represented by a candlestick with seven branches, each branch of which was set, a relic of the Hebraic liturgy and the temple of Moses, with a stone of the same kind and color as the stone in the ring to which it corresponded. For example, the branch I found at Gueures is set with a red stone, an imitation garnet, which was the representative stone of one of the abbeys; and we also know that Brother Nicolas, last administrator in chief of the abbeys of the Caux country, was a monk of Fécamp abbey. Are we in agreement so far?”
“Yes.”
“Then it is enough to know the names of the seven abbeys to know the seven places in which a search has a prospect of success. Now seven names are inscribed on the inside of the rings which Bridget Rousselin handed over to you at the theater last night, and it is those seven rings I ask to examine.”
“What?” cried Beaumagnan. “After we’ve been searching all these years, you come along and claim to reach at the first shot the same stage as we have?”
“Exactly,” said Ralph with a cheerful grin.
“And if I refuse?”
“Excuse me, but do you refuse? I shall only tell you, in the event of your definite refusal.”
“Of course I refuse!” cried Beaumagnan. “Your demand is absolutely senseless! I refuse categorically!”
“Then I shall denounce you.”
Beaumagnan was astounded. He looked at Ralph as if he were dealing with a madman.