“But why?”
“Your Majesty knows that he is a suitor for the hand of Mademoiselle de Villars. He hoped doubtless that if he could get the papers he might—” I hesitated. It was an ugly word to say, yet the Marquis du Trémigon had shown himself to me in his true colors, and I knew there was no knavery he would stop at. “He hoped to influence you, and, through you, Mademoiselle. By the terms of her father’s will she must consent willingly to the marriage, else the contract is void.”
“You seem to know a great deal about the affairs of Mademoiselle, Monsieur.”
“I intend, with your permission, Madame, to know everything about them in the future.”
The Queen smiled.
“He is droll, this cavalier. He speaks like a Frenchman, and wooes like an American.”
“Have I your permission, Madame?” asked Mademoiselle.
“Certainly, my dear.”
“It was the Marquis du Trémigon who betrayed us last night,” she said, turning to me.
“Another score to be settled between us,” I said under my breath.