"On the contrary," said Don Luis, "the shadow is lifting slightly; and I confess that our talk with M. Vacherot has given me a little light."
"Do you mean it?"
But, in Patrice Belval's fevered brain, one idea jostled another. He suddenly stopped:
"Siméon may have gone back to the porter's lodge! . . . And we sha'n't be there! . . . Perhaps he will bring Coralie back!"
"No," Don Luis declared, "he would have done that before now, if it could be done. No, it's for us to go to him."
"But where?"
"Well, of course, where all the fighting has been . . . where the gold lies. All the enemy's operations are centered in that gold; and you may be sure that, even in retreat, he can't get away from it. Besides, we know that he is not far from Berthou's Wharf."
Patrice allowed himself to be led a
