De Courval read Carteaux's deposition and, flushing with sudden anger he threw the paper on the table. "So it seems I deliberately waylaid and shot the secretary of an envoy in order to steal his despatches."
"That is the charge, made by a man who I am assured is dying. You can have no objection to my asking you a few questions."
"None. I shall like it."
"Did you shoot this man?"
"I did. He was of the mock court which murdered my father at Avignon. Any French gentleman here can tell you—Du Vallon for one, and De Noailles. Of the direct personal part this man took in causing my father's death I have not talked. Twice he has had the equal chance I would have given a gentleman. Yes, I meant to kill him."
"But, Vicomte—"
"Pardon me." And he told briefly the story of Carteaux's treacherous shot and of why for a while it seemed well to Schmidt to silence the man.
"It was unwise. A strange and sad affair," said the secretary, "but, Monsieur, it is only this recent matter which concerns me, and the fact, the unfortunate fact, that your enemy was a bearer of despatches. Who can substantiate your statement as against that of a man said to be dying? Who can I call upon?"
"No one. Mr. Schmidt saw it. He is in Europe. The man lies. It is his word or mine. He says here nothing of its being only a personal quarrel; and why did he wait? Ah, clearly until Schmidt, who saw it all, had gone to Europe and I was absent."