A convulsive trembling shook his frame. His face betrayed
a terror most horrible to see, the terror of the criminal found out.
"I know all, you see," continued the count; "and I am not alone in my
knowledge. At this moment, a warrant of arrest is issued against you."
A cry of rage like a hollow rattle burst from the advocate's breast. His
lips, which were hanging through terror, now grew firm. Overwhelmed in
the very midst of his triumph, he struggled against this fright. He drew
himself up with a look of defiance.
M. de Commarin, without seeming to pay any attention to Noel, approached
his writing table, and opened a drawer.
"My duty," said he, "would be to leave you to the executioner who awaits
you; but I remember that I have the misfortune to be your father. Sit
down; write and sign a confession of your crime. You will then find
fire-arms in this drawer. May heaven forgive you!"
The old nobleman moved towards the door. Noel with a sign stopped him,
and drawing at the same time a revolver from his pocket, he said: "Your
fire-arms are needless, sir; my precautions, as you see, are already
taken; they will never catch me alive.
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