He sat down in his arm-chair, and, resting his head on his hands, and his elbows on his desk, he strove to review the position thoroughly.

Perhaps by now all might be over.

Where was Norbert, and what was he doing?
he asked himself.
At the time that Daumon was reflecting, Norbert was on the road leading to Champdoce.

He had entirely lost his head, but he found that his reason was clear and distinct.

Those who have been accustomed to the treatment of maniacs know with what startling rapidity they form a chain of action, and the cloud that veiled Norbert's brain appeared to throw out into stronger relief the murderous determination he had formed.