"You come from Cahors, M. le Vicomte?"
"Well?"
"So do these women; or they say they do. The prisoners."
"From Cahors?"
"Yes. It is odd now," he continued, rubbing his chin, "but when I read your commission I did not think of that."
I shrugged my shoulders impatiently. "It does not follow that I am in the plot," I said. "For goodness sake, M. le Maire, do not let us open the case again. You have seen my papers, and----"
"Tut! tut!" he said. "That is not my meaning. But you may know these persons."
"Oh!" I said; and then I sat a moment, staring at him between the candles, my hand raised, a morsel on my fork. A wild extravagant thought had flashed into my mind. Two ladies from Cahors? From Cahors, of all places? "How do they call themselves?" I asked.
"Corvas," he answered.
"Oh! Corvas," I said, falling to eating again, and putting the morsel into my mouth. And I went on with my supper.