“Do you think so?”
“I am sure of it. It is for you to discover him and you will have no difficulty in that. As for myself, I want to have finished and to give you the promised explanations. I have made faster progress than our adversaries expected and I am convinced that they mean to take vigorous measures on their side. The circle is closing around me. The danger is approaching. I feel it.”
“Nonsense, Beautrelet—”
“You wait and see! For the moment, let us lose no time. And, first, a question on a point which I want to have done with at once. Have you spoken to anybody of that document which Sergeant Quevillon picked up and handed you in my presence?”
“No, indeed; not to a soul. But do you attach any value—?”
“The greatest value. It’s an idea of mine, an idea, I confess, which does not rest upon a proof of any kind—for, up to the present, I have not succeeded in deciphering the document. And therefore I am mentioning it—so that we need not come back to it.”
Beautrelet pressed his hand on M. Filleul’s and whispered:
“Don’t speak—there’s some one listening—outside—”
The gravel creaked. Beautrelet ran to the window and leaned out:
“There’s no one there—but the border has been trodden down—we can easily identify the footprints—”