that she opened the communicating door and entered her
"companion's" room. She hastily approached the bed on which the dress
was lying, and, with a trembling hand, she began to search for the
pocket. Fortune favored her! The key was there. The letter was within
her reach. But she was about to do a deed against which her whole nature
revolted. To steal a key, to force an article of furniture open, and
violate the secret of a private correspondence, these were actions so
repugnant to her sense of honor, and her pride, that for some time she
stood irresolute. At last the instinct of self-preservation overpowered
her scruples. Was not her honor, and Pascal's honor also, at stake--as
well as their mutual love and happiness? "It would be folly to
hesitate." she murmured. And with a firm hand she placed the key in the
lock.

The latter was out of order and the drawer was only opened with
difficulty. But there, on some clothes which Madame Leon had not yet
found time to arrange, Marguerite saw the letter. She eagerly snatched
it up, unfolded it, and read: "Dear Madame Leon--" "Dear me," she
muttered, "here is the name in full. This is an indiscretion which will
render denial difficult." And she resumed her perusal: "Your letter,
which I have just received, confirms what my servants had already
told me: that twice during my absence--on Saturday evening and Sunday
morning--you called at my house to see me." So Mademoiselle Marguerite's
penetration had served her well. All this talk about anxious relatives
had only been an excuse invented by Madame Leon to enable her to absent
herself whenever occasion required. "I regret," continued the letter,
"that you did not find me at home, for I have instructions of the
greatest importance to give you. We are approaching the decisive moment.
I have formed a plan which will completely, and forever, efface all
remembrance of that cursed P. F., in case any one condescended to think
of him after the disgrace we fastened upon him the other evening at the
house of Madame d'Argeles." P. F.--these initials of course meant
Pascal Ferailleur. Then he was innocent, and she held an undeniable,
irrefutable proof of his innocence in her hands. How coolly and
impudently Valorsay confessed his atrocious crime! "A bold stroke is in
contemplation which, if no unfortunate and well-nigh impossible accident
occur, will throw the girl into my arms." Marguerite shuddered. "The
girl" referred to her, of course. "