His Excellency heaved a sigh of relief. If Jules Dubard really had opened the safe, then he feared too well the reason—the motive of the search was plain enough to him.
His teeth set themselves hard, his face blanched at thought of it; and he brushed the scanty grey hair from his forehead with his hand.
And yet it seemed impossible—utterly impossible—that the safe could really have been opened and its contents examined.
“I can’t understand Count Dubard’s reason for accepting our hospitality and then acting as a thief during your absence, father,” the girl remarked, looking him full in the face. “I’ve told mother nothing, as I preferred to come straight to you. That is why I asked you to call me here by telegraph.”
“Quite right, my dear; quite right,” he said. “It would upset your mother unnecessarily.”
“But there is another matter about which I want to talk,” she said, after some hesitation; “something that the count has told me in confidence.”
“Oh! What’s that?” he asked quickly.
“It concerns yourself, father. He says that there is a deep political plot against you—to secure the downfall of the Cabinet and to bring certain unfounded charges against you personally.”
Her father smiled quite calmly.
“That news, my dear, is scarcely fresh,” he replied. “For twenty-five years my political enemies have been seeking to oust me from every office I’ve ever held. Therefore that they should be doing so now is only natural.”