Lucretia's eye rested on him with the full gaze, so rare in its looks.
She drew him to her and kissed his brow. "Boy, through life, whatever
our guilt and its doom, we are bound to each other. I may yet live to
have wealth; if so, it is yours as a son's. I may be iron to others,--
never to you. Enough of this; I must reflect!" She passed her hands
over her eyes a moment, and resumed: "You would help me in my self-
defence; I think you can. You have been more alert in your watch than I
have. You must have means I have not secured. Your father guards well
all his papers."

"I have keys to every desk. My foot passed the threshold of that room
under the roof before yours. But no; his powers can never be yours! He
has never confided to you half his secrets. He has antidotes for every--
every--"

"Hist! what noise is that? Only the shower on the casements. No, no,
child, that is not my object. Cadoudal's conspiracy! Your father has
letters from Fouche which show how he has betrayed others who are
stronger to avenge than a woman and a boy."

"Well?"

"I would have those letters. Give me the keys. But hold! Gabriel,
Gabriel, you may yet misjudge him. This woman--wife to the dead man--his
wife! Horror! Have you no proofs of what you imply?"

"Proofs!" echoed Gabriel, in a tone of wonder; "I can but see and
conjecture. You are warned, watch and decide for yourself. But again I
say, come to England; I shall go!"