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its horror, the descent of the priest’s staircase, the scuttled boat, and the drowning.”

Listening in obvious terror, the three men had drawn their chairs closer together. De Bennetot quietly pushed aside the table which was between him and Ralph. Ralph observed the distorted features of Godfrey d’Etigues and the snarl that bared his teeth. Beaumagnan had but to give the signal, and he would have drawn his revolver and blown the imprudent young man’s brains out.

But it was this very imprudence, quite inexplicable, that stayed Beaumagnan.

With a terrible air he said: “I repeat, monsieur, that you had no right to act as you have done and meddle with things that don’t concern you. But I refuse to lie and deny the facts. Only⁠ ⁠… only I ask myself, since you have surprised such a secret, how you dare come here and provoke us. It’s madness!”

“Why so, monsieur?” said Ralph simply.

“Because your life is in our hands.”

Ralph shrugged his shoulders and said: “My life isn’t in the slightest danger.”

“Nevertheless there are three of us and not at all in the mood to disregard a matter which so closely touches our security.”

“I run no more risk among you three than if it was your interest to act as my defenders,” said Ralph calmly.

“Are you absolutely certain of that?”

“Absolutely, since you didn’t kill me the moment you heard my story.”

“And if I did decide to kill you?”

“An hour later you would all three be arrested.”

“Nonsense!”

“It is as I have the honor of telling you. It’s a quarter past four. One of my friends is walking up and down in front of the Prefecture of Police. It’s a quarter past four. If I haven’t rejoined him by a quarter to five, he informs the chief commissioner of your crime.”

“Stuff and nonsense!” cried Beaumagnan, who appeared to recover confidence. “I am a well-known man. As soon as he mentions my name, they’ll laugh at him!”

“They’ll listen to him.”

“In the meanwhile,” said Beaumagnan, turning to Godfrey d’Etigues.

The order for the execution was on the point of being given. Ralph experienced the joy of genuine peril. In a few seconds the act, the execution of which he had retarded by his extraordinary coolness, would be committed.

“There’s one more thing I should like to say,” he said quietly.

“Speak!” growled Beaumagnan. “But on condition that it is a definite proof against us. We’ve had enough of accusations. With regard to the matter of the Countess and the view that justice may take of it, I’ll attend to that. But I want a proof which proves to me that I’m not wasting my time discussing the matter with you. A proof at once⁠—if not⁠—”

He rose from his chair. Ralph rose too and faced him with imperious gripping eyes.

“Proof or death⁠—that’s what you mean, isn’t it?” he said.

“Yes.”

“Well, my answer is: the seven rings! At once! If not⁠—”

“If not?”

“My friend hands over to the chief commissioner the letter which you wrote to the Baron d’Etigues, instructing him how to capture Josephine Balsamo and ordering him to murder her.”

Beaumagnan pretended to be surprised: “A letter? Instructions to murder?” he said.

Ralph went into details; he said: “Yes, a letter in a kind of code, in which you get at the real meaning by ignoring a number of interposed sentences.”

“Oh, that scrawl⁠—I remember⁠—yes,” said Beaumagnan carelessly.

“A scrawl which constitutes the irrefutable proof you asked for,” said Ralph coldly.

“Of course⁠—of course⁠—I admit it,” said Beaumagnan ironically. “Only I’m not a schoolboy; and I take precautions. That letter was given back to me by the Baron at the beginning of the meeting. I burned it.”

“You burned the copy that was given to you. I took the precaution of keeping the original myself. I found it in the secret drawer of the Baron’s rolltop desk. It is the original that my friend will hand over to the police.”

The ring that had formed round Ralph broke. The savage faces of the Baron and his cousins no longer expressed anything but fear and anguish. Ralph gathered that the duel was at an end, and that without any real struggle⁠—just a few feints and thrusts and parries. He had handled the affair with such skill and by his adroitness manoeuvred Beaumagnan into such a tragic situation, that, in the condition of mind in which he found himself, he could no longer get a clear view of the facts or discern his adversary’s weak points. For after all, with regard to this letter of which Ralph declared he had the original: on what did that assertion rest? On nothing whatever. So that it had finally come about that Beaumagnan, after having demanded of Ralph an irrefutable proof before giving way, had by a singular anomaly, under the young man’s adroit pressure, remained quite content with his bare assertion.

He gave ground quite suddenly without any effort to make terms. He opened a drawer, took out the seven rings, and said simply: “What assurance have I that you will not use that letter against us?”

“You have my word, monsieur,” said Ralph. “Besides, where we are concerned circumstances never repeat themselves exactly⁠—next time you will find a way of getting the upper hand.”

“You may be sure of that, young man,” said Beaumagnan; and he ground his teeth.

Ralph seized the rings with a trembling hand. Each of them had indeed a name engraved on its inside. On a scrap of paper he wrote quickly down the names of the seven abbeys:

Fécamp, Saint-Wandrille, Jumièges, Valmont, Gruchet le Valasse, Montvilliers, Saint-Georges de Boscherville.

Beaumagnan rang the bell. But when the servant came he bade him wait in the hall, and turning to Ralph, he said:

“Just one thing more: I’ll make you an offer. You know the task we have set ourselves. You know exactly the point to which our efforts have brought us, and that the end is not so very far off?”

“That is my opinion,” said Ralph.

“Well, do you feel disposed⁠—I’m not going to beat about the bush⁠—to cast in your lot with us?”

“On the same terms as

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