"No, no!" said Mme. de Chaulnes, putting up a delicate mittened hand. "No, nothing of that sort was necessary. Angèle here can testify to that. We were old friends of his father's, devoted Royalists--what need for more? But if he were obstinate, I could not answer . . ." The mask was off now. They _had_ sent him to France, then. "Madame, where is he?" asked La Vireville sternly. "It is I who can put force in motion here, remember!" "You threaten us with those same repugnant methods, then, Monsieur?" "God forbid! I merely want to come to terms. If the child has already reached France----" "Then neither you, Monsieur, whatever power you may command here, nor his grandfather, nor all the magistrates' warrants in England will get him out again--no, not the whole British Army!" La Vireville made no reply to this unpleasant truth. "What I cannot understand," he said, "is your motive for sending him there--unless it be sheer cruelty. You cannot seriously regard him as a source of information; moreover, you have, apparently, already pumped him dry." Mme. de Chaulnes smiled a little. "He is an intelligent child, and an attractive. His father no doubt adores him--motherless only son as he is." And on that, in a flash, La Vireville saw the whole thing. They were going to use Anne as a bait. They hoped his father, that adversary of parts, would follow him into the jaws of destruction. "As you are no doubt aware," he said slowly, "the Marquis de Flavigny is little likely to hear of his son's kidnapping for some time to come. Your acquaintance, however procured, with the family affairs will tell you that he is not in England at present." "Measures will be taken to inform him during the course of his travels on the Continent," replied Mme. de Chaulnes with calm. "If the information does not reach him, well----" She left the sentence unfinished, her needle pursuing its unfaltering course. La Vireville watched it, his brain busy with all sorts of desperate schemes. "I have almost the feelings of a father for Anne myself," he remarked at length. "That is most creditable to you, Monsieur." "Would it not be possible for _me_ to play the part designed for the Marquis de Flavigny, or is he irreplaceable?" Mme. de Chaulnes put down her needle and looked her compatriot in the face. In those old clear eyes, wells of falsehood, he could read nothing save an implacable will. "You would do . . . better," she said. "Faith, I am flattered!" cried La Vireville gaily, though, to tell the truth, he felt a little cold. "Will you instruct me how to play the part?" "It is simple. Fired with this quasi-paternal anxiety, you go to France after the child and attempt to recover him." The Chevalier de la Vireville laughed. "A fine 'attempt'! Do you think, Madame, that I am fool enough to venture my head for no better a chance than that? After all, I am _not_ his father."