"It was no jest, monsieur," said the cure, sternly. "You will permit me to remark that all I heard, even from your own lips, of Monsieur Moreau's last illness, and the extraordinary terms of his will, coupled with the amazing fact of his having chosen as _depositaire_ a man wholly unknown to him until the morning of his death, appeared to me so unaccountable, not to say suspicious, that I felt it my duty to act in some degree on my own responsibility. I made private inquiries among those whom I considered likely to aid me, and immediately that I succeeded in obtaining a slight clew which it appeared to me might lead to the desired point, I thought it desirable--yes, monsieur, I avow it-- to test the sincerity of your professions, by appointing a meeting at the Lion d'Or. Permit me to state that from having myself waited there the whole day in vain, I am in a condition to affirm that no notice was taken of my communication." "Allow me, then, in return, to say that you behaved in an indefensible manner, M. le Cure," replied M. Deshoulieres, promptly. "You had no right to indulge in anonymous communications. Nevertheless, I have already informed you of what was done. You can apply to M. Roulleau. Have you any thing more to remark?" The cure, who was suspicious but not irritable, glancing at him again, could not repress another feeling of admiration. Either the man was a magnificent deceiver or--He was so steadfast, so noble-looking, so immeasurably above the other. M. le Cure fidgeted, and did not know what to think. Fabien answered the question hotly. "A great deal more. During the last year I have twice written to my uncle, at Chateau Ardron. What has become of these letters?" "I cannot answer you," said Max, in some surprise. "I cannot answer you that question. Since the first month only a few unimportant letters have come to me, and they were brought by M. Roulleau, to whom they have been forwarded by some mistake." "We have questioned old Mathieu at Ardron," the cure said dryly; "he remembers the foreign letters, and will swear to having forwarded them. As to the mistake, he told us that he had your directions to send all letters to M. Roulleau, numero 8, Rue St Servan, Charville." M. Deshoulieres' face, for the first time, looked troubled. "There is something strange in this which I do not understand," he said slowly. Fabien interrupted him with his insulting laugh. "There is a great deal, let me assure you, monsieur, which we do not understand--" Max, in his turn, stopped him. "That will do, Monsieur Saint-Martin. I can pardon much to a person in your position, but my forbearance has its limits. I shall question M. Roulleau on the points you have named. It is unnecessary to say more to-night. May I ask what hour you will appoint for meeting me in Charville to-morrow, when the will can be read, and the papers delivered into your keeping?"