"Ah, I see," returned Villefaramir. "Or I see that it may have been so. I must, however, enjoin you, in the name of Justice, to show me this letter."
Gamgès retrieved the letter from his backpack, where it was sequestered amid pots, pans, rope, tobacco pouches, tawdry brooches from Lottaloria, and other bagatelles that Samouard fancied.
M. de Villefaramir took one look at the envelope, and gasped with horror. It was addressed to his father, Dénéthoirtier! Had the room collapsed like the Tour de Barad-dour in the novel of Bilbon, the steuard could not have been more stupefied, nay crushed. With trembling hand he removed the letter, and as he read, his face assumed an expression of greater and greater terror, until by the end of it he was shaking. He sat for several minutes with his head in his hands.
"Do you need some cognac, M. le steuard?" inquired Gamgès. "You look unwell; I will ring for assistance at once."
"No!" cried Villefaramir. "I alone command here."
"Monsieur, it was to aid you," said Gamgès.
"I want no aid," replied Villefaramir. "I need no aid. It was but a temporary malaise." Oh, if he knows the content of this letter, he thought, I am annihilated.
