“And who knows it?” Noirtier looked at the door where the servant had gone out. “Barrois?” said she.
“Yes.”
“Shall I call him?”
“Yes.”
Valentine went to the door, and called Barrois. Villefort’s impatience during this scene made the perspiration roll from his forehead, and Franz was stupefied. The old servant came. “Barrois,” said Valentine, “my grandfather has told me to open that drawer in the secretary, but there is a secret spring in it, which you know — will you open it?”
Barrois looked at the old man. “Obey,” said Noirtier’s intelligent eye. Barrois touched a spring, the false bottom came out, and they saw a bundle of papers tied with a black string.
“Is that what you wish for?” said Barrois.
“Yes.”
“Shall I give these papers to M. de Villefort?”
“No.”
“To Mademoiselle Valentine?”
“No.”
“To M. Franz d’Epinay?”
“Yes.”
Franz, astonished, advanced a step. “To me, sir?” said he.
“Yes.” Franz took them from Barrois and casting a glance at the cover, read: —
“‘To be given, after my death, to General Durand, who shall bequeath the packet to his son, with an injunction to preserve it as containing an important document.’
“Well, sir,” asked Franz, “what do you wish me to do with this paper?”
“To preserve it, sealed up as it is, doubtless,” said the procureur.
“No,” replied Noirtier eagerly.
“Do you wish him to read it?” said Valentine.
“Yes,” replied the old man. “You understand, baron, my grandfather wishes you to read this paper,” said Valentine.
“Then let us sit down,” said Villefort impatiently, “for it will take some time.”
“Sit down,” said the old man. Villefort took a chair, but Valentine remained standing by her father’s side, and Franz before him, holding the mysterious paper in his hand. “Read,” said the old man. Franz untied it, and in the midst of the most profound silence read:
“‘Extract from the Report of a meeting of the Bonapartist Club in the Rue Saint-Jacques, held February 5th, 1815.’”
Franz stopped. “February 5th, 1815!” said he; “it is the day my father was murdered.” Valentine and Villefort were dumb; the eye of the old man alone seemed to say clearly, “Go on.”
“But it was on leaving this club,” said he, “my father disappeared.” Noirtier’s eye continued to say, “Read.” He resumed: —
“‘The undersigned Louis Jacques Beaurepaire, lieutenant-colonel of artillery, Etienne Duchampy, general of brigade, and Claude Lecharpal, keeper of woods and forests, Declare, that on the 4th of February, a letter arrived from the Island of Elba, recommending to the kindness and the confidence of the Bonapartist Club, General Flavien de Quesnel, who having served the emperor from 1804 to 1814 was supposed to be devoted to the interests of the Napoleon dynasty, notwithstanding the title of baron which Louis XVIII. had just granted to him with his estate of Epinay.
“‘A note was in consequence addressed to General de Quesnel, begging him to be present at the meeting next day, the 5th. The note indicated neither the street nor the number of the house where the meeting was to be held; it bore no signature, but it announced to the general that some one would call for him if he would be ready at nine o’clock. The meetings were always held from that time till midnight. At nine o’clock the president of the club presented himself; the general was ready, the president informed him that one of the conditions of his introduction was that he should be eternally ignorant of the place of meeting, and that he would allow his eyes to be bandaged, swearing that he would not endeavor to take off the bandage. General de Quesnel accepted the condition, and promised on his honor not to seek to discover the road they took. The general’s carriage was ready, but the president told him it was impossible for him to use it, since it was useless to blindfold the master if the coachman knew through what streets he went. “What must be done then?” asked the general. —“I have my carriage here,” said the president.
“‘”Have you, then, so much confidence in your servant that you can intrust him with a secret you will not allow me to know?”