The Baron Armand De Valfort Alternate Ending

When I opened the door, in front of me stood the Baron Armand de Valfort. At least, it was the name I read on the card he presented to me with a large and powerful gesture, unintended to be aggressive nor demeaning. This gentleman appeared to be forthright, and to know what he wanted while his deportment reflected authority and confidence. “You are Captain Walter Morsirisse, n’est-ce pas?” he said, in a voice which dark resonance added to the black color of his eyes. “Premier Bataillon Étranger de Parachutistes.” I replied, lowering my head to honor my distinguished visitor with a salute that also permitted me to have a better look at his face since at 6 feet 4, I towered over him. The Baron was a middle-aged man, and ‘middle’ could have
You see! Étienne told me that he knew nothing about it.” “Tiens! Tiens! C’est bizarre!” “Do you think he lied?” asked the Baron. “He had no reason!” he added quickly. “And again! I believe him to be honest and reliable.” “We’ll see! Right now, I am going to ask you an important question. A lot will depend on what your answer will be. This is why I want you to trust me, and be frank with me.” I marked a pause to let my silence underline the gravity of what I was going to ask next: the one question which had crept out of the uneasy feeling the letter had created in me from the beginning. I spoke abruptly. “Tell me, Baron! Where is the other one?” “What do you mean?!” he eructed, jumping as if he had been bitten by a bee. “What other one?!” “Don’t you see?’” I asked, feigning a surprise with the talent of a third rate actor in a third rate Paris Boulevard theater. “No! I don’t!” he almost screamed. “The other ‘Blue letter’,” I clarified. “The first one you received!” “What are you talking about? There is no other ‘Blue letter’. Neither blue nor pink!” “Oh, yes, Baron! There is. There must be another letter!” “Why ‘another’?” “Because in this one, the facts are