[CHAPTER XLV.]
Carmontelle turned to his friend.
"Poor Una!" he said; "it is no wonder she fled in dismay, after hearing such a tale of horror. Come, let us go. We have heard all that madame's malignity can invent to torture two loving hearts, and the only task that remains to us is to prove it false."
"Which you will never do!" she exclaimed, with triumphant malice.
"Time will prove," he retorted, as he led the agitated Van Zandt out of the house, ignoring the ceremony of adieus to its mistress.
But his face grew very grave once they gained the darkness of the street. To himself he said, in alarm:
"Can her tale be true? It sounded very plausible."
To Eliot he said:
"I shall put this affair in the hands of one who will sift it to the bottom. Then, if Madame Remond has lied to us, she shall suffer for her sin."