emed like two glints
of flame. Delagarde dropped a fist heavily upon the table, and held
it there clinched, while his heel beat a tattoo of excitement upon the
floor. Guida's breath came quick and fast--as Ranulph said afterwards,
she was "blanc comme un linge." She shuddered painfully when the
slaughter and burning of the Swiss Guards was read. Her brain was so
swimming with the horrors of anarchy that the latter part of the letter
dealing with the vanished Count of Tournay passed by almost unheeded.

But this particular matter greatly interested Ranulph and de Mauprat.
They leaned forward eagerly, seizing every word, and both instinctively
turned towards Detricand when the description of de Tournay was read.

As for Detricand himself, he listened to the first part of the letter
like a man suddenly roused out of a dream. For the first time since
the Revolution had begun, the horror of it and the meaning of it were
brought home to him. He had been so long expatriated, had loitered so
long in the primrose path of daily sleep and nightly revel, had fallen
so far, that he little realised how the fiery wheels of Death were
spinning in France, or how black was the torment of her people. His face
turned scarlet as the thing came home to him now. He dropped his head in
his hand as if to listen more attentively, but it was in truth to
hide his emotion. When the names of Vaufontaine and de Tournay were
mentioned, he gave a little start, then suddenly ruled himself to a
strange stillness. His face seemed presently to clear; he even smiled
a little. Conscious that de Mauprat and Delagarde were watching him, he
appeared to listen with a keen but impersonal interest, not without its
effect upon his scrutinisers. He nodded his head as though he understood
the situation. He acted very well; he bewildered the onlookers. They
might think he tallied with the description of the Comte de Tournay,
yet he gave the impression that the matter was not vital to himself. But
when the little Chevalier stopped and turned his eye-glass upon him with
sudden startled inquiry, he found it harder to keep composure.

"Singular--singular!" said the old man, and returned to the reading of
the letter.

When he ended there was absolute silence for a moment. Then the
chevalier lifted his eye-glass again and looked at Detricand intently.

"Pardon me, monsieur," he said, "but you were with Rullecour--as I was
saying."

Detricand nodded with a droll sort o