But the new-comer uttered a terrible oath, and, in an almost threatening tone, exclaimed: “We will see about that! If you have gone mad, thank God I still possess my reason! I will not permit----” “Excuse me!” interrupted the other, coldly, “you will permit it. This is merely the result of your own--credulity. The time to say, ‘I won’t permit it,’ was when Chanlouineau asked you to allow him to receive a visit from Mademoiselle Lacheneur. Do you know what that cunning fellow wanted? Simply to give Mademoiselle Lacheneur a letter of mine, so compromising in its nature, that if it ever reaches the hands of a certain person of my acquaintance, my father and I will be obliged to reside in London for the future. Then good-bye to all our projects of an alliance between our two families!” The newcomer heaved a mighty sigh, followed by a half angry, half sorrowful exclamation; but the man with the rope, without giving him any opportunity to reply, resumed: “You, yourself, marquis, would no doubt be compromised. Were you not a chamberlain during Bonaparte’s reign? Ah, marquis! how could a man of your experience, so subtle, penetrating, and acute, allow himself to be duped by a low, ignorant peasant?” Now M. d’Escorval understood everything. He was not dreaming; it was the Marquis de Courtornieu and Martial de Sairmeuse who were talking on the other side of the wall. The former had been so crushed by Martial’s revelation that he made no effort to oppose him. “And this terrible letter?” he groaned. “Marie-Anne Lacheneur gave it to the Abbe Midon, who came to me and said: ‘Either the baron will escape, or this letter will be taken to the Duke de Richelieu.’ I voted for the baron’s escape, I assure you. The abbe procured all that was necessary; he met me at a rendezvous I appointed in a quiet place; he coiled all this rope round my body, and here I am.” “Then you think that if the baron escapes they will give you back your letter?” “Most assuredly I do.” “You deluded man! Why, as soon as the baron is safe, they will demand the life of another prisoner, with the same threats.” “By no means.” “You will see.” “I shall see nothing of the kind, for a very simple reason. I have the letter now in my pocket. The abbe gave it to me in exchange for my word of honour.” M. de Courtornieu uttered an ejaculation which showed that he considered the abbe to be an egregious fool. “What!” he exclaimed. “You hold the proof, and---- But this is madness! Burn this wretched letter in your lantern, and let the baron go where his slumbers will be undisturbed.” Martial’s silence betrayed something like stupefaction. “Ah! so that’s what you would do?” he asked at last. “Certainly--and without the slightest hesitation.” “Ah well! I can’t say that I quite congratulate you.”