"Gentlemen," said the Count with dignity, "am I called on to rehearse again the offensive scene which took place at the abbey de San Paolo? Am I, as one in the supreme _vente_ of Naples, the chief of which I was, an object of distrust to my brethren? Have I again lost the confidence of my dearest associates? If such be the case, if the pledges I have given to our cause are now valueless, if forgetfulness and ingratitude go together, say so, plainly and distinctly. I am willing to abandon the office, title, and rank, you have conceded to me. I will write to all the _ventes_ of Europe and will henceforth become the most humble but not the least devoted brother of the association." The suspicions of the three friends at once passed away when they heard this energetic and loyal discourse. Von Apsberg gave his hand to the Count. "Excuse us," said he, "misfortune embitters even the best men. The misfortunes of our brethen, the mysterious enemy who denounces and seems anxious to effect our ruin, overwhelm and distress us. Look," added he, with the haste with which men often discharge a painful duty, "here are the lists of the six chiefs of the central _ventes_. Are these the papers given you by the imprisoned chiefs A----, Ch----, B----, C----, F----, and Ober? Are these the papers you gave me?" "They are." "Are these their signatures?" said Von Apsberg. "They are." "You are mistaken," said d'Harcourt, "at least in relation to that of Ober, for here is his true signature to this letter, written the day previous to his arrest. You can yourself see how poor the imitation is." The Count grew pale, and the other conspirators watched him as if to read his thoughts. "Do you think the other lists also forgeries?" said the Count. "We do." "Then," said the Count, "all is lost." "All _is_ lost," said Von Apsberg, "and we wish to ascertain from you who had charge of these papers; how is it that they have been copied, and how came the originals in the hands of the police?" "If such be the case," said Taddeo, who suffered visibly from this species of examination. "But," said Monte-Leone, who became more and more excited, "you ask me a question I cannot answer--which God alone can explain. All this is a mystery beyond my powers." "Well," said Von Apsberg, growing every moment more nervous, for he saw the approach of the necessity of this terrible explanation; "well, in the absence of proof, our brethren indulge in conjectures." As he spoke, the words seemed riveted to his lips, and to break from them with difficulty. "What are those conjectures?" said Monte-Leone, resuming his _sang-froid;_ for the idea that there was a suspicion in relation to his honor, was not within the compass of his thought. He began to seek a remedy almost before he knew what was the evil which menaced him.