The driver could not resist the desire to change his five-franc piece; he had ordered dinner, and, finding his wine very good, was calling for more, when he looked up and saw his employers.

“Well, you are in a strange state!” he exclaimed.

Prosper replied that they had gone to see a friend, and, losing their way, had fallen into a pit; as if there were pits in Vesinet forest.

“Ah, that is the way you got covered with mud, is it?” exclaimed the driver, who, though apparently contented with this explanation, strongly suspected that his two customers had been engaged in some nefarious transaction.

This opinion seemed to be entertained by everyone present, for they looked at Prosper’s muddy clothes and then at each other in a knowing way.

But M. Verduret stopped all comment by saying: 

“Come on.”

“All right, monsieur:  get in while I settle my bill; I will be there in a minute.”

The drive back was silent and seemed interminably long.  Prosper at first tried to draw his strange companion into conversation, but, as he received nothing but monosyllables in reply, held his peace for the rest of the journey.  He was again beginning to feel irritated at the absolute empire exercised over him by this man.

Physical discomfort was added to his other troubles.  He was stiff and numb; every bone in him ached with the cold.

Although mental endurance may be unlimited, bodily strength must in the end give way.  A violent effort is always followed by reaction.

Lying back in a corner of the carriage, with his feet upon the front seat, M. Verduret seemed to be enjoying a nap; yet he was never more wide awake.

He was in a perplexed state of mind.  This expedition, which, he had been confident, would resolve all his doubts, had only added mystery to mystery.  His chain of evidence, which he thought so strongly linked, was completely broken.

For him the facts remained the same, but circumstances had changed.  He could not imagine what common motive, what moral or material complicity, what influences, could have existed to make the four actors in his drama, Mme. Fauvel, Madeleine, Raoul, and Clameran, seem to have the same object in view.

He was seeking in his fertile mind, that encyclopaedia of craft and subtlety, for some combination which would throw light on the problem before him.

The midnight bells were ringing when they reached the Archangel, and for the first time M. Verduret remembered that he had not dined.

Fortunately Mme. Alexandre was still up, and in the twinkling of an eye had improvised a tempting supper.  It was more than attention, more than respect, that she showed her guest.  Prosper observed that she gazed admiringly at M. Verduret all the while he was eating his supper.

“You will not see me to-morrow,” said M. Verduret to Prosper, when he had risen to leave the room; “but I will be here about this time to-morrow night.  Perhaps I shall discover what I am seeking at mm.  Jandidier’s ball.”