"Do they know it?"
"No, but an accident may bring them together. Moreover, Bernard and his father correspond; and Bernard must have told his father what happened at the Château d'Ornequin, at least in so far as Paul Delroze was able to piece the incidents together."
"Well, what does that matter, so long as they know nothing of the other events? And that's the main thing. They could discover all our secrets through Élisabeth and find out who I am. But they won't look for her, because they believe her to be dead."
"Are you sure of that, Excellenz?"
"What's that?"
The two accomplices were standing close together, looking into each other's eyes, the major uneasy and irritated, the spy cunning.
"Speak," said the major. "What do you want to say?"
"Just this, Excellenz, that just now I was able to put my hand on Delroze's kit-bag. Not for long: two seconds, that's all; but long enough to see two things. . . ."
"Hurry up, can't you?"
"First, the loose leaves of that manuscript of which you took care to burn the more important papers, but of which, unfortunately, you mislaid a considerable part."