“Ah!” said he, “then it does not interest you to know that a gentleman has been to see the young lady?”
I took out ten francs.
“Yes, it does,” said I, handing him the money. “Who was it?”
“The Duke of Saint-Maclou,” he whispered mysteriously.
“Is he gone?” I asked in some alarm. I had no wish to encounter him.
“This half-hour, sir.”
“Did he see both the ladies?”
“No; only the young lady. Madame went out immediately on his arrival, and is not yet returned.”
“And mademoiselle?”
“She is in her room.”
Thinking I had not got much, save good will, for my ten francs—for he told me nothing but what I had expected to hear—I was about to pass on, when he added, in a tone which seemed more significant than the question demanded:
“Are you going up to your room, sir?”
“I am,” said I.
“Permit me to show you the way,” he said—though his escort seemed to me very unnecessary.
He mounted before me. We reached the first floor. Opposite to us, not three yards away, was the door of the sitting-room which I knew to be occupied by the Delhasses.
“Go on,” said I.
“In a moment, sir,” he said.
