“I am satisfied that the Marquis du Trémigon, whom I shall see later, with the King’s permission——”
“I will give you a lettre de cachet to the Bastile for him, if you like.”
“Thank you, Sire. Monsieur du Trémigon was not there, but I insist someone was, and I demand to know who.”
No one spoke for a moment.
“Éspiau, you know?”
“I have nothing to say, Monsieur le Duc,” replied the old servant, turning pale.
“Will no one tell me?” cried the old man, grief in his heart, appeal in his tones, shame in his bearing.
“I will,” I said boldly; “I was there.”
“You, sir!”
“Even I, Monsieur.”