THE LOVE OF MONSIEUR
upon Ferrers was remarkable. The lowering crook came out of his brows, and his hand made an involuntary movement to his breast, the fingers trembling a moment in the air. His face relaxed like heated wax, and he stared at the Frenchman, his mouth open, the picture of wonderment and uncertainty.
Mistress Clerke, who had been about to speak, paused bewildered. Ferrers stammered awkwardly, as though gathering his wits for a reply.
“The papers!” he gasped at last. “The papers!” And then with a futile attempt at sang-froid, “What papers, monsieur?”
If the Englishman had not been so completely off his guard he would have seen a flash of triumph in the Frenchman’s eyes. Mornay narrowly watched his discomfiture; then continued, quietly:
“Monsieur le Capitaine Ferraire, René d’Añasco has been found. The son of Eloise de Bresac has come to life and is to-day in London. He knows of the sale of his birthright. He has discovered the proofs of his mother’s marriage
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