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“What do you mean?”

“I mean that, if a man like the count, after so many hesitations and in the face of so many difficulties, risks so doubtful an adventure, it must be because he thinks he has command of weapons …”

“What weapons?”

“I don’t know. But they exist … or else he would not have begun by taking away your son.”

Yvonne gave way to her despair:

“Oh, this is horrible!… How do I know what he may have done, what he may have invented?”

“Try and think…. Recall your memories…. Tell me, in this desk which he has broken open, was there any sort of letter which he could possibly turn against you?”

“No … only bills and addresses….”

“And, in the words he used to you, in his threats, is there nothing that allows you to guess?”

“Nothing.”

“Still … still,” Velmont insisted, “there must be something.” And he continued, “Has the count a particularly intimate friend … in whom he confides?”

“No.”

“Did anybody come to see him yesterday?”

“No, nobody.”

“Was he alone when he bound you and locked you in?”