He could almost feel the strong hand of the law clutching him by
the collar.
One evening, as he was eating his dinner at a neighboring
restaurant, a man entered and took a seat at the same table. He
was a person about forty years of age, and wore a frock-coat of
doubtful cleanliness. He ordered soup, vegetables, and a bottle of
wine. After he had finished his soup, he turned his eyes on
Danegre, and gazed at him intently. Danegre winced. He was
certain that this was one of the men who had been following him for
several weeks. What did he want? Danegre tried to rise, but
failed. His limbs refused to support him. The man poured himself
a glass of wine, and then filled Danegre's glass. The man raised
his glass, and said:
"To your health, Victor Danegre."
Victor started in alarm, and stammered:
"I!....I!....no, no....I swear to you...."
"You will swear what? That you are not yourself? The servant of
the countess?"
"What servant? My name is Dufour. Ask the proprietor."
"Yes, Anatole Dufour to the proprietor of this restaurant, but
Victor Danegre to the officers of the law."
"That's not true! Some one has lied to you.
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