“Into what dark depths of shame have we fallen!” he groaned.
“Reassure yourself, monsieur,” replied M. Verduret with great respect.
“After what I have been constrained to tell you, what remains to be said
is a mere trifle. I will finish the story.
“On leaving Mihonne, who had given him a full account of the misfortunes
of Mlle. Valentine de la Verberie, Clameran hastened to London.
“He had no difficulty in finding the farmer’s wife to whom the old
countess had intrusted Gaston’s son.
“But here an unexpected disappointment greeted him.
“He learned that the child, whose name was registered on the parish
books as Raoul-Valentin Wilson, had died of the croup when eighteen
months old.”
“Did anyone state such a fact as that?” interrupted Raoul: “it is
false.”
“It was not only stated, but proved, my pretty youth,” replied M.
Verduret. “You don’t suppose I am a man to trust to verbal testimony; do
you?”
He drew from his pocket several officially stamped documents, with red
seals attached, and laid them on the table.
“These are declarations of the nurse, her husband, and four witnesses.
Here is an extract from the register of births; this is a certificate
of registry of his death; and all these are authenticated at the French
Embassy. Now are you satisfied, young man?”
“What next?” inquired M. Fauvel.
“The next step was this,” replied M. Verduret. “Clameran, finding
that the child was dead, supposed that he could, in spite of this
disappointment, obtain money from Mme. Fauvel; he was mistaken. His
first attempt failed. Having an inventive turn of mind, he determined
that the child should come to life. Among his large circle of rascally
acquaintances, he selected a young fellow to impersonate Raoul-Valentin
Wilson; and the chosen one stands before you.”
Mme. Fauvel was in a pitiable state. And yet she began to feel a ray of
hope; her acute anxiety had so long tortured her, that the truth was a
relief; she would thank Heaven if this wicked man was proved to be no
son of hers.
“Can this be possible?” she murmured, “can it be?”
“Impossible!” cried the banker: “an infamous plot like this could not be
executed in our midst!”
“All this is false!” said Raoul boldly. “It is a lie!”