“But what of this evidence you refer to?”
“You have, I take it, discovered no incriminating evidence—no documents that will tell against the Vicomte?”
“No, monsieur, it is true that I have not—”
He stopped and bit his lip, my smile making him aware of his indiscretion.
“Very well, then, you must invent some evidence to prove that he was in no way, associated with the rebellion.”
“Monsieur de Bardelys,” said he very insolently, “we waste time in idle words. If you think that I will imperil my neck for the sake of serving you or the Vicomte, you are most prodigiously at fault.”
“I have never thought so. But I have thought that you might be induced to imperil your neck—as you have it—for its own sake, and to the end that you might save it.”
He moved away. “Monsieur, you talk in vain. You have no royal warrant to supersede mine. Do what you will when you come to Toulouse,” and he smiled darkly. “Meanwhile, the Vicomte goes with me.”
“You have no evidence against him!” I cried, scarce believing that he would dare to defy me and that I had failed.
“I have the evidence of my word. I am ready to swear to what I know—that, whilst I was here at Lavedan, some weeks ago, I discovered his connection with the rebels.”