More than ten times he had changed the hiding-place of his precious stocking; but, wherever he put it, he always fancied that the eyes of his visitors were riveted upon that very spot. He recovered, however, from his fright when Anthony told him his errand, and replied in the most civil manner,-- “M. Magloire came here at nine o’clock precisely. I took him immediately to M. de Boiscoran’s cell; and ever since they have been talking, talking.” “Are you quite sure?” “Of course I am. Must I not know every thing that happens in my jail? I went and listened. You can hear nothing from the passage: they have shut the wicket, and the door is massive.” “That is strange,” murmured the old servant. “Yes, and a bad sign,” declared the keeper with a knowing air. “I have noticed that the prisoners who take so long to state their case to their advocate always catch the maximum of punishment.” Anthony, of course, did not report to his masters the jailer’s mournful anticipations; but what he told them about the length of the interview did not tend to relieve their anxiety. Gradually the color had faded from Dionysia’s cheeks; and the clear ring of her voice was half drowned in tears, when she said, that it would have been better, perhaps, if she had put on mourning, and that seeing the whole family assembled thus reminded her of a funeral. The sudden arrival of Dr. Seignebos cut short her remarks. He was in a great passion, as usual; and as soon as he entered, he cried,-- “What a stupid town Sauveterre is! Nothing but gossip and idle reports! The people are all of them old women. I feel like running away, and hiding myself. On my way here, twenty curious people have stopped me to ask me what M. de Boiscoran is going to do now. For the town is full of rumors. They know that Magloire is at the jail now; and everybody wants to be the first to hear Jacques’s story.” He had put his immense broad brimmed hat on the table, and, looking around the room at all the sad faces he asked,-- “And you have no news yet?” “Nothing,” replied M. Seneschal and M. Folgat at the same breath. “And we are frightened by this delay,” added Dionysia. “And why?” asked the physician. Then taking down his spectacles, and wiping them diligently, he said,-- “Did you think, my dear young lady, that Jacques de Boiscoran’s affair could be settled in five minutes? If they let you believe that, they did wrong. I, who despise all concealment, I will tell you the truth. At the bottom of all these occurrences at Valpinson, there lies, I am perfectly sure, some dark intrigue. Most assuredly we shall put Jacques out of his trouble; but I fear it will be hard work.” “M. Magloire!” announced old Anthony. The eminent advocate of Sauveterre entered. He looked so undone, and bore so evidently the traces of his excitement, that all had the same terrible thought which Dionysia expressed. “Jacques is lost!” M. Magloire did not say no. “I believe he is in danger.”