“I know what I am saying,” rejoined Chanlouineau; and still fearful lest some spy might be concealed outside; he now came close to Marie-Anne and in a low voice spoke rapidly as follows: “I never believed in the success of this conspiracy, and when I sought for a weapon of defence in case of failure, the Marquis de Sairmeuse furnished it. When it became necessary to send out a circular, warning our accomplices of the date decided upon for the rising, I persuaded M. Martial to write a model. He suspected nothing. I told him it was for a wedding, and he did what I asked. This letter, which is now in my possession, is the rough draft of the circular we sent; and it is in the Marquis de Sairmeuse’s handwriting. It is impossible for him to deny it. There is an erasure in every line, and every one would look at the letter as the handiwork of a man seeking to convey his real meaning in ambiguous phrases.” With these words Chanlouineau opened the envelope and showed her the famous letter he had dictated, in which the space for the date of the insurrection was left blank. “My dear friend, we are at last agreed, and the marriage is decided on, etc.” The light that had sparkled in Marie-Anne’s eyes was suddenly bedimmed. “And you think that this letter can be of any use?” she inquired, with evident discouragement. “I don’t _think_ so!” “But----” With a gesture, he interrupted her. “We must not lose time in discussion--listen to me. Of itself, this letter might be unimportant, but I have arranged matters in such a way that it will produce a powerful effect. I declared before the commission that the Marquis de Sairmeuse was one of the leaders of the movement. They laughed; and I read incredulity on all the judges’ faces. But calumny is never without its effect. When the Duke de Sairmeuse is about to receive a reward for his services, there will be enemies in plenty to remember and repeat my words. He knew this so well that he was greatly agitated, even while his colleagues sneered at my accusation.” “It’s a great crime to charge a man falsely,” murmured Marie-Anne, with simple honesty. “No doubt,” rejoined Chanlouineau, “but I wish to save the baron, and I cannot choose my means. As I knew that the marquis had been wounded, I declared that he was fighting against the troops by my side and asked that he should be summoned before the tribunal; swearing that I had in my possession unquestionable proofs of his complicity.” “Did you say that the Marquis de Sairmeuse had been wounded?” inquired Marie-Anne.