He was silent a minute.  Then he laughed and shook his head.

“It will not do, Madame,” he said, his lip curling.  “You are clever, but you do not deceive me.”

“Deceive you?”

“Yes.”

“You do not believe that I took the letters?” she cried in great amazement.

“No,” he answered, “and for a good reason.”  He had hardened his heart now.  He had chosen his line, and he would not spare her.

“Why, then?” she cried.  “Why?”

“For the best of all reasons,” he answered.  “Because the person who stole the letters was seized in the act of making his escape, and is now in my power.”

“The person—­who stole the letters?” she faltered.

“Yes, Madame.”

“Do you mean M. de Tignonville?”

“You have said it.”

She turned white to the lips, and trembling, could with difficulty sit her horse.  With an effort she pulled it up, and he stopped also.  Their attendants were some way ahead.

“And you have the letters?” she whispered, her eyes meeting his.  “You have the letters?”

“No, but I have the thief!” Count Hannibal answered with sinister meaning.  “As I think you knew, Madame,” he continued ironically, “a while back before you spoke.”

“I?  Oh no, no!” and she swayed in her saddle.  “What—­what are you—­going to do?” she muttered after a moment’s stricken silence.

“To him?”

“Yes.”

“The magistrates will decide, at Angers.”

“But he did not do it!  I swear he did not.”

Count Hannibal shook his head coldly.

“I swear, Monsieur, I took the letters!” she repeated piteously.  “Punish me!” Her figure, bowed like an old woman’s over the neck of her horse, seemed to crave his mercy.

Count Hannibal smiled.

“You do not believe me?”

“No,” he said.  And then, in a tone which chilled her, “If I did believe you,” he continued, “I should still punish him!” She was broken; but he would see if he could not break her further.  He would try if there were no weak spot in her armour.  He would rack her now, since in the end she must go free.  “Understand, Madame,” he continued in his harshest tone, “I have had enough of your lover.  He has crossed my path too often.  You are my wife, I am your husband.  In a day or two there shall be an end of this farce and of him.”

“He did not take them!” she wailed, her face sinking lower on her breast.  “He did not take them!  Have mercy!”

“Any way, Madame, they are gone!” Tavannes answered.  “You have taken them between you; and as I do not choose that you should pay, he will pay the price.”