"Our first act, as you may suppose, was to run to the ambassador. We did
not see that dignitary, but his secretary received us. He knit his brows
when I told my story, and became excessively grave. I remember each word
of his reply.
"'Monsieur,' said he, 'I can swear that the persecution of which you
have been the object in France had nothing whatever to do with your
detention here.'
"And as I expressed my astonishment:
"'One moment,' he added. 'I shall express my opinion very frankly. One
of your enemies--I leave you to discover which one--must exert a very
powerful influence in Turin. You were in his way, perhaps; he had you
imprisoned by the Piedmontese police.'"
With a heavy blow of his clinched fist, Jean Lacheneur made the table
beside him reel.
"Ah! the secretary was right!" he exclaimed. "Maurice, it was Martial de
Sairmeuse who caused your arrest----"
"Or the Marquis de Courtornieu," interrupted the abbe, with a warning
glance at Jean.
A wrathful light gleamed for an instant in the eyes of Maurice; but it
vanished almost immediately, and he shrugged his shoulders carelessly.
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