Monsieur de Braguelonne did not immediately reply, but with his clear and piercing glance seemed to be reading Des Avenelles's soul and his eyes to their lowest depths.
The latter, with labored breath, repeated his question,—"Do you know in what part of Paris the Prince de Condé and La Renaudie now are, Monseigneur?"
"We shall have no difficulty in finding them," replied Monsieur de Braguelonne.
"But you haven't found them yet!" cried Des Avenelles, with delight. "Ah! God be praised! I may still win my pardon. I know where they are, Monseigneur."
Démocharès's eye glistened; but the lieutenant of police concealed his satisfaction.
"Pray, where are they?" he said in the most indifferent tone imaginable.
"At my house, Messieurs, at my house!" said the advocate, proudly.
"I knew it," calmly replied Monsieur de Braguelonne. "What do you say,—you knew that, too?" ejaculated Des Avenelles, whose cheeks lost their color again.
"To be sure I did; but I wished to test your good faith. Come, it is all right, and I am content with you! Your case was a very serious one, to say the least. To think of having sheltered such great villains!"
"You made yourself quite as guilty as they," said Démocharès, sententiously.