The duke shook his head. “All this is scarcely plausible,” he remarked; “especially after the statements made to me concerning your complicity in the revolt.” “Ah!” said the young marquis, “so your head spy has been at work again. However, I am certainly surprised that you can hesitate for a moment between your son’s word and the stories told you by such a wretch.” “Don’t speak ill of Chupin, marquis; he is a very useful man. Had it not been for him, we should have been taken unawares. It was through him that I learned of this vast conspiracy organized by Lacheneur--” “What! is it Lacheneur--” “Who is at the head of the movement?--yes, marquis. Ah! your usual discernment has failed you in this instance. What, you were a constant visitor at his house, and yet you suspected nothing? And you contemplate a diplomatic career! But this is not everything. Now you know what became of the money you so lavishly bestowed on these people. They used it to purchase guns, powder and ammunition.” The duke was satisfied that his earlier suspicions concerning his son’s complicity were without foundation; still he could not resist the temptation to taunt Martial anent his intimacy with the ex-steward of Sairmeuse. But, despite the bitterness of the situation, it proved a fruitless effort. Martial knew very well that he had been duped, but he did not think of resentment. “If Lacheneur has been captured,” he murmured to himself, “if he were condemned to death, and if I could only save him, then Marie-Anne would have nothing to refuse me.” XV. When the Baron d’Escorval divined the reason of his son’s frequent absences from home, he studiously avoided speaking on the matter to his wife; and, indeed, he did not even warn her of his purpose when he went to ask the Abbe Midon to go with him to Lacheneur’s. This was the first time that he had ever had a secret from the faithful partner of his life; and his silence fully explains the intensity of Madame d’Escorval’s astonishment when at dinner time Maurice was sometimes late; but the baron, like all great workers, was punctuality itself. Hence his non-arrival could only be due to some extraordinary occurrence. Madame d’Escorval’s surprise developed into uneasiness when she ascertained that her husband had started off in the Abbe Midon’s company, that they had harnessed a horse to the cabriolet themselves, driving through the stable-yard into a lane leading to the public road, in lieu of passing through the court-yard in front of the house, as was the usual practice. This strange precaution must necessarily conceal some mystery.