I know that this hinted conspiracy
against your father is a trumped-up lie to lure you to the coppice."
"And for what purpose, pray?"
"An evil one,--your abduction. Shall I tell you who penned that note, and
who awaits you? The Marquis C?sar de St. Auban."
She shuddered as I pronounced the name, then, looking me straight between
the eyes--"How come you to know these things?" she inquired.
"What does it signify, since I know them?"
"This, Monsieur, that unless I learn how, I can attach no credit to your
preposterous story."
"Not credit it!" I cried. "Let me assure you that I have spoken the truth;
let me swear it. Go to the coppice at the appointed time, and things will
fall out as I have predicted."
"Again, Monsieur, how know you this?" she persisted, as women will.
"I may not tell you."
We stood close together, and her clear grey eyes met mine, her lip curling
in disdain.
"You may not tell me? You need not. I can guess." And she tossed her
shapely head and laughed. "Seek some likelier story, Monsieur. Had you
not spoken of it, 't is likely I should have left the letter unheeded.
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