"In spite of that," she said, pointing to the iron token, "I am inclined to listen to the message."
"Mademoiselle, I regret that I ever undertook to carry it. I had other business in hand, but an oath to a dead man was binding."
"A dead man? Lucien?"
"I know nothing of Lucien. For all I know he may already be making merry at my discomfiture. The dead man was one Rouzet, or so he told me, and he called himself your servant."
"He was Lucien's servant, a faithful one," she answered.
"At least he was faithful in some one's service since he died in it, and I can honor him for that even though he deceived me."
"You have told me so much you must tell me more," she said, a persuasive tone in her voice.
She must hear the story. Whether this man were honest or not she must make him speak. Whatever plot was on foot she must know it. To some one surely Lucien had given the gold star. Much must depend on her receiving the message he had sent with it.
"You must tell me," she repeated.
"And knowing far more than I do you may laugh at me for a simple gentleman easily fooled. Still, he is something of a hero who can stand being laughed at. Many years ago I had that from a countryman of yours, the Marquis de Lafayette. I was on my way to visit him in Paris, when this mission was thrust upon me."