That is
the story in brief."
"That woman sent you to fetch me?" he repeated again.
"Yes," I answered angrily. "She did, M. de Pavannes."
"Then," he said slowly, and with an air of solemn conviction
which could not but impress me, "there is a trap laid for me!
She is the worst, the most wicked, the vilest of women! If she
sent you, this is a trap! And my wife has fallen into it
already! Heaven help her--and me--if it be so!"
CHAPTER VIII.
THE PARISIAN MATINS.
There are some statements for which it is impossible to be
prepared; statements so strong and so startling that it is
impossible to answer them except by action--by a blow. And this
of M. de Pavannes was one of these. If there had been any one
present, I think I should have given him the lie and drawn upon
him. But alone with him at midnight in the shadow near the
bottom of the Rue des Fosses, with no witnesses, with every
reason to feel friendly towards him, what was I to do?
As a fact, I did nothing. I stood, silent and stupefied, waiting
to hear more.
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