"Impossible!" he exclaimed.
"Excuse me, monsieur--it must be a vile rascal named Coralth."
It was a bellow rather than a cry of rage that escaped M.
Fortunat's lips. To a man of his experience, only a glimmer of
light was required to reveal the whole situation. "Ah! I
understand!--I see!" he exclaimed. "Yes, you are right, Victor;
it's he--Coralth--Valorsay's tool! Coralth was the traitor who, in
obedience to Valorsay's orders, ruined the man who loved
Mademoiselle Marguerite. The deed was done at Madame d'Argeles's
house. So Coralth knows her, and knows her secret. It's he who
has outwitted me." He reflected for a moment, and then, in a very
different tone, he said: "I shall never see a penny of the count's
millions, and my forty thousand francs are gone forever; but, as
Heaven hears me, I will have some satisfaction for my money. Ah!--
so Coralth and Valorsay combine to ruin me! Very well!--since
this is the case, I shall espouse the cause of Mademoiselle
Marguerite and of the unfortunate man they've ruined. Ah, my
cherubs, you don't know Fortunat yet! Now well see if the
innocent don't get the best of you, and if they don't unmask you.
I shall do my best, since you have forced me to do it--and gratis
too!"
Chupin was radiant; his vengeance was assured. "And I, monsieur,"
said he, "will give you some information about this Coralth.
First of all, the scoundrel's married and his wife keeps a
tobacco-shop somewhere near the Route d'Asnieres.
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