“Yes, Madame.”
“Do you mean M. de Tignonville?”
“You have said it.”
She turned white to the lips, and trembling, could with difficulty sit her horse. With an effort she pulled it up, and he stopped also. Their attendants were some way ahead.
“And you have the letters?” she whispered, her eyes meeting his. “You have the letters?”
“No, but I have the thief!” Count Hannibal answered with sinister meaning. “As I think you knew, Madame,” he continued ironically, “a while back before you spoke.”
“I? Oh no, no!” and she swayed in her saddle. “What—what are you—going to do?” she muttered after a moment’s stricken silence.
“To him?”
“Yes.”
“The magistrates will decide, at Angers.”