They trembled to think that this officer might be a man of unusual
shrewdness, who had suspected their complicity, and was impatient to
verify his presumptions.
No, the old lieutenant had not the slightest suspicion. He had spoken
on the impulse of the moment, merely to give vent to his displeasure. He
was not even keen enough to remark the rapid glance interchanged between
the marquis and the duke.
Martial noticed this look, however, and with a politeness too studied
not to be ridicule, he addressed the lieutenant:
"Yes, we must institute an investigation; that suggestion is as shrewd
as it is opportune," he remarked.
The old officer turned away with a muttered oath.
"That coxcomb is poking fun at me," he thought; "and he and his father
and that prig deserve--but what is one to do?"
In spite of his bold remark, Martial felt that he must not incur the
slightest risk.
To whom must the charge of this investigation be intrusted? To the duke
and to the marquis, of course, since they were the only persons who
would know just how much to conceal, and just how much to disclose.
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