He insisted on going to inspect the rocks at the foot of the precipice.
There they discovered large spots of blood.
"One of the fugitives must have fallen," said Martial, quickly, "and was
dangerously wounded!"
"Upon my word!" exclaimed the Duc de Sairmeuse, "if Baron d'Escorval has
broken his neck, I shall be delighted!"
Martial's face turned crimson, and he looked searchingly at his father.
"I suppose, Monsieur, that you do not mean one word of what you are
saying," Martial said, coldly. "We pledged ourselves, upon the honor of
our name, to save Baron d'Escorval. If he has been killed it will be a
great misfortune to us, Monsieur, a great misfortune."
When his son addressed him in his haughty and freezing tone the duke
never knew how to reply. He was indignant, but his son's was the
stronger nature.
"Nonsense!" exclaimed M. de Courtornieu; "if the rascal had merely been
wounded we should have known it."
Such was the opinion of Chupin, who had been sent for by the duke, and
who had just made his appearance.
But the old scoundrel, who was usually so loquacious and so officious,
replied briefly; and, strange to say, did not offer his services.
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