"This Ferragus, this Bourignard, or this Monsieur de Funcal, is a
demon!" cried Maulincour, after having read it. "Oh, what a frightful
maze I put my foot into when I meddled in this matter! Where am I
going? I did wrong, monsieur," he continued, looking at Jules; "but
death is the greatest of all expiations, and my death is now
approaching. You can ask me whatever you like; I am at your orders."
"Monsieur, you know, of course, where this man is living, and I must
know it if it costs me all my fortune to penetrate this mystery. In
presence of so cruel an enemy every moment is precious."
"Justin shall tell you all," replied the baron.
At these words the vidame fidgeted on his chair. Auguste rang the
bell.
"Justin is not in the house!" cried the vidame, in a hasty manner that
told much.
"Well, then," said Auguste, excitedly, "the other servants must know
where he is; send a man on horseback to fetch him. Your valet is in
Paris, isn't he? He can be found."
The vidame was visibly distressed.
"Justin can't come, my dear boy," said the old man; "he is dead. I
wanted to conceal the accident from you, but--"
"Dead!" cried Monsieur de Maulincour,--"dead! When and how?"
"Last night. He had been supping with some old friends, and, I dare
say, was drunk; his friends--no doubt they were drunk, too--left him
lying in the street, and a heavy vehicle ran over him."
"The convict did not miss _him_; at the first stroke he killed," said
Auguste.
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