He went back to his chair and added in a low voice in which there was a note of fear: “Do you believe all these things they say about her?” “What things?” “About her age?... And all those stories of bygone days?” “They’re rubbish!” said the Baron scornfully. “Beaumagnan believes in them at any rate.” “Who knows what Beaumagnan believes, or what he doesn’t?” said the Baron impatiently. “Nevertheless you must admit, Godfrey, that it’s an infernally odd business ... and that everything goes to show that she was not born yesterday.” “Yes: that is so,” murmured Godfrey d’Etigues. “For my part, when I read that paper Beaumagnan drew up, I spoke to her as if she really had been living all those years ago.” “Then you do believe it?” “More or less. But stop talking about it. I’ve already had a good deal more than I bargained for in getting mixed up in this affair. If I had only known what it meant before I started on it, I swear to you----” he raised his voice--“I would have refused to have anything to do with it, and made no bones about it. Only----” He broke off short. The subject was in the highest degree distasteful to him and he did not wish to say a word more about this infinitely painful business. But de Bennetot went on: “Yes, and I swear to you that for two pins I’d clear out now; and all the more, look you, because I’ve a notion that Beaumagnan has us all nicely hooked. As I told you before he knows a lot more about the business than we do; and we’re just puppets in his hands. One day or other, when he no longer has any need of us, he’ll bid us a fond farewell and we shall see that he has worked the whole business for his own advantage. I’d bet on it. However----” Godfrey put his finger to his lip and murmured: “Be quiet. She can hear you.” “What does that matter?” said de Bennetot. “In a little while she’ll----” The words died away on his lips; and they seemed no longer to dare to break the silence. Every quarter of an hour the clock of the village church chimed. Ralph fancied he could see their lips move as they counted the strokes, gazing fearfully at one another without saying anything. But when that clock struck ten, Godfrey d’Etigues banged his fist down on the table with a violence that made the lamp jingle. “Hell take it! It’s time we started.” “What a disgusting job it is!” growled de Bennetot. “Are we going by ourselves?” “The others want to come with us. But I shall send them back from the top of the cliff, since they believe in that English ship,” said the Baron. “I should much prefer that we went in a body,” said de Bennetot. “Oh, be quiet! My instructions are that only you and I are to handle the matter. The others might get talking; and that would be a pretty kettle of fish. Hullo! Here they are!” The others turned out to be the three who had not taken the train, that is to say d’Ormont, Rufus d’Estiers, and Rolleville. The latter was carrying a stable lamp which the Baron made him extinguish.