The Captain shrugged his shoulders, and looked at me scornfully. "It is a fine, credible tale indeed," said he.
"If you will take the trouble to send to La Flèche, you will find that Monsieur de Merri is really slain," said I warmly.
"Oh, no doubt," said the Captain. "But before he was slain, he had time to take you into his confidence regarding certain things."
"Not at all. I had never seen him before that evening. It was from his servant, after he was dead, that I learned he was coming to Montoire. If you can find that servant, at La Flèche or Sablé, he will tell you so."
"How could he have known he was wanted here?" asked the Captain of the Count. "Your offer of a messenger was disdained."
"I knew she would contrive to send after him on her own account, if I gave her enough liberty," returned the Count.
"It argues skill in such contrivances," said the Captain, with a significant look.
The Count frowned in a sickly way, but not at the speaker. "Well, in any case, the liberty will now be cut off," he said harshly. But after a moment, he added: "And yet, if this gentleman does not lie, Monsieur de Merri was coming here fast enough."
"To brazen it out, perhaps. There is no limit to the self-confidence of youth. As for this gentleman, how does his story account for the interest he takes in a certain window that looks upon the terrace?"
The Count's face darkened again, as he turned menacingly toward me. "Yes, by heaven, I had forgotten that."