"He says so, but I don't believe it; he is too much of a coward for that."
"In that case, how did he happen to be going home alone?"
"He was not alone—his servant was in front with a lantern; but at his master's first outcry, the rascal, instead of running to his assistance, fled, it seems, without so much as looking back."
"And a few days earlier, the old Baronne de Graveline was going home one evening in a brouette; Giovanni drove away the man who wheeled the brouette, then relieved the baroness of her money, diamonds, and jewels; she had some very fine ones on that night."
"It is worthy of remark that this infernal villain has extraordinary luck; he always stumbles on a rich victim!"
"Do you call that luck, Montrevert? For my part, I am persuaded that Giovanni attacks only where he is sure of his ground. I mean by that that he must have confederates, who probably inform him as to the profitable strokes that may be made on a certain evening."
"In that case, Giovanni's confederates must be received in the best society, and even at court, to be so thoroughly posted concerning what is going on, and to know what road such and such a person is likely to take to return home."
"Ha! ha! that is not an unlikely supposition, on my word! There is no safety anywhere, messieurs!—I say, Comte de Marvejols, are you quite certain that you have had no thieves at your party to-night?—Léodgard!—Where in the devil is he?"
Léodgard had left the card room and had gone to the table where the indomitable drinkers were still at work; he had swallowed several glasses of maraschino, then had gone out into the courtyard, only to return in a moment to the dining hall.
"Have you the fidgets in your legs to-night, comte?" murmured young Monclair; "you do not seem to stay a second in one place."