"Monsieur le Baron cannot have read my letter?"
That was almost true, and the fact is that the contents of the epistle had escaped Marius; he had seen the writing rather than read the letter, and he scarce remembered it. A new hint had just been given him, and he noticed the detail, "My wife and daughter." He fixed a penetrating glance on the stranger,—a magistrate could not have done it better,—but he confined himself to saying,—
"Be more precise."
The stranger thrust his hands in his trousers' pockets, raised his head without straightening his backbone, but on his side scrutinizing Marius through his green spectacles.
"Very good, M. le Baron, I will be precise. I have a secret to sell you."
"Does it concern me?"
"Slightly."
"What is it?"
Marius more and more examined the man while listening.
"I will begin gratis," the stranger said; "you will soon see that it is interesting."