The old idiot said to me, 'Madame de Mussidan knows all about the fate of the Marquis, and this is clearly proved by letters that she has received from him, as well as from the Duke de Champdoce.'" This time the arrow went home.

She grew deadly pale, and started to her feet with her eyes dilated with horror.
"My letters!" exclaimed she hoarsely.
Hortebise appeared utterly overwhelmed by this display of consternation, of which he was the innocent cause.
"Your letters, madame," replied he with evident hesitation, "this double-dyed scoundrel declares he has in his possession." With a cry like that of a wounded lioness, the Countess, taking no notice of the doctor's presence, rushed from the room.

Her rapid footfall could be heard on the stairs, and the rustle of her silken skirts against the banisters.

As soon as he was left alone, the doctor rose from his seat with a cynical smile upon his face.
"You may search," mused he, "but you will find that the birds have flown." He walked up to one of the windows, and drummed on the glass with his fingers.

"People say," remarked he, "that Mascarin never makes a mistake.