To send the count on a wild-goose chase to Quebec while madame sauntered leisurely toward Spain! It was a brilliant stroke, indeed.
"What boat ?" demanded D'Herouville.
"The Saint Laurent," answered the vicomte, playing out the lie.
Victor's glance was sullen.
"Wait a moment, man!" cried the vicomte, catching the count's cloak.
"You can not mean to go running after madame in this fashion.

You will compromise her.

Besides, I have some questions to ask.

What about De Brissac's play-woman ?" "Died in prison six days ago.

She poisoned herself before they examined her." The count looked longingly toward the door.
"What! Poisoned herself?
Then she must have loved that hoary old sinner!" The vicomte's astonishment was genuine.
The chilling smile which passed over the count's face was sinister.