"The Comte d'Herouville!" exclaimed the vicomte. "Saumaise, this looks
bad. He is not a man to run away like you and me."
The new-comer spoke to the innkeeper, who raised his index finger and
leveled it at Victor and the vicomte. On seeing them, D'Herouville
came over quickly.
"Messieurs," he began, "I am gratified to find you."
"The news!" cried the poet and the gamester.
"Devilish bad, Monsieur, for every one. The paper . . ."
"It is not here," interrupted the vicomte.
The count swore. "Mazarin has mentioned your name, Saumaise. You were
a frequent visitor to the Hotel de Brissac. As for me, I swore to a
lie; but am yet under suspicion. Has either of you seen Madame de
Brissac? I have traced her as far as Rochelle."
The vicomte looked humorously at the poet. Victor scowled. Of the two
men he abhorred D'Herouville the more. As for the vicomte, he laughed.
"You laugh, Monsieur?" said D'Herouville, coldly. His voice was not
unpleasant.
"Why, yes," replied the vicomte. "Has Mazarin published an edict
forbidding a man to move his diaphragm? You know nothing about the
paper, then?"
"Madame de Brissac knows where it is," was the startling declaration.
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