A neighboring church-clock striking the hour of seven
aroused him from his meditations. He arranged the confused mass
of papers before him--looked toward the door, as if expecting
some one to enter--then, finding himself still alone, recurred to
the one special paper which had first suggested his long train of
gloomy thoughts. The few lines it contained were signed in
cipher, and ran thus:
"You are aware that your superintendent, Danville, obtained leave
of absence last week to attend to some affairs of his at Lyons,
and that he is not expected back just yet for a day or two. While
he is away, push on the affair of Trudaine. Collect all the
evidence, and hold yourself in readiness to act on it at a
moment's notice. Don't leave the office till you have heard from
me again. If you have a copy of the Private Instructions
respecting Danville, which you wrote for me, send it to my house.
I
wish to refresh my memory. Your original letter is burned."
Here the note abruptly terminated. As he folded it up and put it
in his pocket, Lomaque sighed. This was a very rare expression of
feeling with him. He leaned back in his chair, and beat his nails
impatiently on the table. Suddenly there was a faint little tap
at the room door, and eight or ten men--evidently familiars of
the new French Inquisition--quietly entered, and ranged
themselves against the wall.
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