He understood that she had ascribed his behaviour of the previous day, his first, false version, his reticence and his confusion to scruples of conscience and vague apprehensions. Anxious about the consequences of the business and dreading lest his testimony might complicate it, he had tried to avoid the annoyance of giving evidence. "I believe you're right," he said, with a view to confirming her in her mistake. "Besides, is the business so very serious?" They talked together for a few minutes and, gradually, while watching her, he changed the subject to the Jorances: "Has Suzanne been this morning?" Marthe appeared astonished: "Suzanne?" she said. "Don't you know?... Oh, of course, you were asleep last evening. Suzanne spent the night here." He turned aside his head, to hide the flush that spread over his features, and he said: "Oh, she slept here, did she?" "Yes. M. Morestal wishes her to stay with us until M. Jorance's return." "But ... but where is she now?..." "She is at Boersweilen ... she has gone to ask for leave to see her father." "Alone?" "No, Victor went with her." With an air of indifference, Philippe asked: "How is she? Depressed?" "Very much depressed.... I don't know why, but she imagines that it was her fault that her father was kidnapped.... She says she urged him to go for that walk!... Poor Suzanne, what interest could she have in remaining alone?..." He plainly perceived, from his wife's voice and attitude, that, although certain coincidences had surprised her, her mind had not been touched by the shadow of a suspicion. On that side, everything was over. The danger was averted. Happily released from his fears, Philippe had the further satisfaction of learning that his father had spent a very good night and that he had gone to the town-hall at Saint-Elophe. He questioned his mother. Mme. Morestal, yielding like Philippe to that desire for assuagement and security which comes over us after any great shock, reassured him on the subject of the old man's health. Certainly, there was something the matter with the heart: Dr. Borel insisted upon his leading the most regular and monotonous life. But Dr. Borel always looked at the dark side of things; and, all considered, Morestal had borne the fatigue attendant on his capture and escape, hard though it was, very well indeed. "Besides, you have only to look at him," she concluded. "Here he comes, back from Saint-Elophe." They saw him alight from the carriage with the brisk and springy step of a young man. He joined them in the drawing-room and at once cried: