“I am morally certain that such was not the case,” he replied. “I know, by Marie-Anne’s absence, the date of her child’s birth. I saw her after her recovery; she was comparatively gay and smiling. Draw your own conclusions.” “And yet there is not a nook or corner for miles around which we have not explored.” “True; but we must extend the circle of our investigations.” The priest, now, was only striving to gain time, knowing full well that it is the sovereign balm for all sorrows. His confidence, which had been very great at first, had been sensibly diminished by the responses of an old woman, who passed for one of the greatest gossips in the community. Adroitly interrogated, the worthy dame replied that she knew nothing of such a child, but that there must be one in the neighborhood, since it was the third time she had been questioned on the subject. Intense as was his surprise, the abbe succeeded in hiding it. He set the old gossip to talking, and after a two hours’ conversation, he arrived at the conclusion that two persons besides Maurice were searching for Marie-Anne’s child. Why, with what aim, and who these persons could be the abbe was unable to ascertain. “Ah! rascals have their uses after all,” he thought. “If we only had a man like Chupin to set upon the track!” But the old poacher was dead, and his eldest son--the one who knew Blanche de Courtornieu’s secret--was in Paris. Only the widow and the second son remained in Sairmeuse. They had not, as yet, succeeded in discovering the twenty thousand francs, but the fever for gold was burning in their veins, and they persisted in their search. From morning until night the mother and son toiled on, until the earth around their hut had been explored to the depth of six feet. A word dropped by a peasant one day put an end to these researches. “Really, my boy,” he said, addressing young Chupin, “I did not suppose you were such a fool as to persist in hunting birds’ nests after the birds have flown. Your brother, who is in Paris, can undoubtedly tell you where the treasure was concealed.” The younger Chupin uttered the fierce roar of a wild beast. “Holy Virgin! you are right!” he exclaimed. “Wait until I get money enough to take me to Paris, and we will see.” CHAPTER L Martial de Sairmeuse’s unexpected visit to the Chateau de Courtornieu had alarmed Aunt Medea even more than Blanche. In ten seconds, more ideas passed through her brain than had visited it for ten years. She saw the gendarmes at the chateau; she saw her niece arrested, incarcerated in the Montaignac prison, and brought before the Court of Assizes. If this were all she had to fear! But suppose she, too, were compromised, suspected of complicity, dragged before the judge, and even accused of being the sole culprit!