on why he had
failed to achieve greatness--and he was exercising it for the sake of
that child above-stairs, and because he kept ever-present in his mind
the thought that she must come to grievous harm if ill befell himself.
But he controlled his passion at the cost of his appetite. He could not
eat, so enraged was he. And so he pushed the platter from him, and rose.

He turned to Rabecque, and the sight of his face sent the lackey back a
pace or two in very fear. He waved his hand to the table.

"Sup, Rabecque," said he. "Then come to me above."

And followed, as before, by the eyes of the stranger and his companions,
Garnache strode out of the room, and mounting the stairs went to find
solace in talk with Valerie. But however impossible he might find it to
digest the affront he had swallowed, no word of the matter did he utter
to the girl, lest it should cause her fears to reawaken.

CHAPTER VII. THE OPENING OF THE TRAP

Garnache spent a sleepless night at Grenoble, on guard throughout the
greater part of it since nothing short of that would appease the fears
of Valerie. Yet it passed without any bellicose manifestation on the
part of the Condillacs such as Valerie feared and such as Garnache was
satisfied would not--could not, indeed--take place.

Betimes next morning he dispatched Rabecque to the Auberge de France for
the promised carriage, and broke his fast in the common-room what time
he awaited his man's return. The chamber was again occupied by the
stranger of yesternight, who sat apart, however, and seemed no longer
disposed to interfere with the Parisian. Garnache wondered idly, might
this be due to the circumstance that that same stranger was supported
now by one single companion, and was therefore less valorous than when
he had been in the company of three.

At another table were two gentlemen, sprung he knew not whence, quiet
in dress and orderly in manner, to whom he paid little heed until one of
them a slender, swarthy, hawk-faced fellow--looking up suddenly, started
slightly at sight of the Parisian and addressed him instantly by name.
Garnache paused in the act of rising from table, half-turned, and
sharply scrutinized the swarthy gentleman, but failed to recognize him.
He advanced towards him.

"I have the honour to be known to you, monsieur?" he half-stated,
half-inquired.

"Parbleu, Monsieur de Garnache!" exclaimed the other with a ready
smile, the more winning since it lighted up a