Half an hour later, Hortense Daniel and Rénine left the Château de Halingre. Before their departure, they had gone as far as the ivy-grown tower, the remains of an old donjon-keep more than half demolished. The inside was empty. There seemed to have been a way of climbing to the top, at a comparatively recent period, by means of wooden stairs and ladders which now lay broken and scattered over the ground. The tower backed against the wall which marked the end of the park.
A curious fact, which surprised Hortense, was that Prince Rénine had neglected to pursue a more minute enquiry, as though the matter had lost all interest for him. He did not even speak of it any longer; and, in the inn at which they stopped and took a light meal in the nearest village, it was she who asked the landlord about the abandoned château. But she learnt nothing from him, for the man was new to the district and could give her no particulars. He did not even know the name of the owner.
They turned their horses' heads towards La Marèze. Again and again Hortense recalled the squalid sight which had met their eyes. But Rénine, who was in a lively mood and full of attentions to his companion, seemed utterly indifferent to those questions.
"But, after all," she exclaimed, impatiently, "we can't leave the matter there! It calls for a solution."
"As you say," he replied, "a solution is called for. M. Rossigny has to know where he stands and you have to decide what to do about him."
She shrugged her shoulders: "He's of no importance for the moment. The thing to-day...."
"Is what?"
"Is to know what those two dead bodies are."
"Still, Rossigny...."
"Rossigny can wait. But I can't. You have shown me a mystery which is now the only thing that matters. What do you intend to do?"