"It was not necessary," he answered, his eye upon me; plainly he thought that I had some reason for remaining behind.
"Here is the proof," I said, as I turned to the Count and laid the bundle of papers upon the table.
It contained the diary and all the notes, save that of my lady, which had lain next my heart ever since I had discovered it. He took the package, and opening it, began methodically to read the papers.
Oliver and myself had resumed our seats, to await the result of DeNortier's investigation. I glanced down the long tables; the men had taken their seats, but, hardened as they were, the tragedy had cast a gloom over their spirits, and they sat in silence, drinking deeply of the wine, only speaking softly among themselves. Their silence, deep and unbroken, was a strange contrast to the mirth and turmoil that only a few minutes before had rung through the room.
There is something in silence that oppresses the mind; we can bear the noise and roar with a good grace, but silence is a quality that strikes dismay within the breast of man. To-night, as I gazed upon these silent men, I felt a thrill of something pass over me—'twas not fear, it was more like dread, that foe I had seldom experienced since I came to man's estate. They were dangerous thus; in the feasting and revelry they had not had time to plot, but now they were silent and had the opportunity.
I was now aroused by Oliver, who caught my sleeve.
"What is it?" he whispered. "Why have the men grown so silent?"
I whispered to him what had happened.
"Awful," he murmured, as he covered his face with his hands, "I am glad that I missed the sight."
The pirate had spoken not a word since he had taken the papers. Slowly, carefully, he glanced over them one by one, but now he had finished. With an oath, he threw them from the table.