Carmontelle saw the three nuns looking apprehensively at the pale,
still face of his charge, and said, reassuringly:
"Do not be alarmed. It is not death, although it looks so much like it.
The girl is only in a drugged sleep."
"But, monsieur--" began the mother superior, indignantly, when she was
interrupted by his equally indignant disclaimer:
"It is none of my work. Wait until I tell you my story."
And he immediately related it without reserve. All three listened with
eager interest.
"Now you know all," he said, at last, "and I will be perfectly frank
with you regarding my intentions. I am rich, and have none to oppose my
will. I wish to educate this unfortunate girl and make her my wife."
The superioress was gracious enough to say that it was a most laudable
intention.
"You will aid me, then? You will receive her as a pupil, train and
educate her in a manner befitting the position she will fill as my
wife?" eagerly.
"_Oui_, monsieur," she replied, instantly; and he nearly overwhelmed
her with thanks.
"I leave her in your care, then," he said, finally, as he pressed a
check for a large amount into her hand. "Now I will not intrude upon
you longer at this unseemly hour, but to-morrow I will call to see how
she fares, and to make arrangements."
He paused a minute to anxiously scan the pale, sweet, sleeping face,
and then hurried away, eager to learn how Van Zandt had fared in his
valiant effort at holding his pursuer at bay. Springing into the
carriage again, he gave the order:
"Back to Esplanade Street."
The mettlesome horses trotted off at a lively pace through the quiet,
almost deserted streets, and in a short space of time they drew up in
front of Mme. Lorraine's residence.
All was still and silent there. The front windows were closed and dark,
and the clear moonlight shone upon the bare pavement--bare, where but a
little while ago had lain the forms of the two vanquished contestants.
Carmontelle looked at the dark, silent front of the house for a moment
in doubt and indecision. He felt intuitively that behind its dark
portals was the knowledge he desired, that Mme. Lorraine could tell him
how the contest had fared after his departure.
Anxiety conquered his reluctance to arouse the household at that late
hour. He again left the carriage, and in crossing the pavement to the
door, slipped and fell in a pool of blood yet wet and warm.
Horrified, he held up his hands with the dark fluid dripping from them.
"So, then, blood has been shed!" he exclaimed, and rang a furious peal
on madame's door-bell.
"Whew! that was loud enough to wake the dead!" ejaculated the attentive
driver from his box; but apparently Mme. Lorraine was a very sound
sleeper indeed, for repeated ringings of the bell elicited no response.
In despair, Carmontelle was forced to go away, although quite satisfied
in his own mind that Mme. Lorraine had heard, but refused to respond
through malice prepense.
He drove next to Eliot Van Zandt's hotel, and met the startling
information that the young man had not been in that night.
"_Mon Dieu_! what has become of the brave lad?" he ejaculated, in
alarm; then, fiercely: "I will seek out Remond, and force the truth
from him at the point of my sword!"
Fortunately for the now wearied horses, Remond's hotel was but a few
squares further; but here he met the puzzling information that Remond
had left an hour before, having given up his rooms, and declared his
intention of not returning.
In the dim, strange light of the waning moon, Carmontelle grew
strangely pale.
"There is some mystery at the bottom of all this!" he asserted.
But, baffled on every side in his efforts after information, he
concluded to give up the quest until day; so was driven to his own
lodgings in the pale glimmer of the dawn-light that now began to break
over the quaint old city.
Weary and dispirited, with a vague presentiment of evil, he flung
himself on his bed, and a heavy stupor stole over him, binding his
faculties in a lethargic slumber from which he did not arouse until the
new day began to wax toward its meridian.