Again and again he showed it to eager guests.
Suddenly, as he was about to fold it up for the last time and carry it to the library, he saw the name of George Fournel among the signatures.
Stunned, dumfounded, he left the room.

George Fournel, whom he had tried to kill, had signed this address of congratulation to his wife! Was it Fournel's intention thus to show that he had forgiven and forgotten?
It was not like the man to either forgive or forget.

What did it mean?
He left the house buried in morbid speculation, and involuntarily made his way to a little hut of two rooms which he had built in the Seigneury grounds.

Here it was he read and wrote, here he had spent moody hours alone, day after day, for months past.

He was not aware that some one left the crowd about the house and followed him.