“On account of the speculation.” said Planchet, heedlessly.
“The speculation!”
“I mean—” interrupted Planchet, quite confused.
“Well, well; neither your affairs nor those of your master are in question; the interest we take in him alone has induced me to apply to you. Since the captain of the musketeers is not here, and as we cannot learn from you where we are likely to find M. d’Artagnan, we will take our leave of you. Au revoir, Planchet, au revoir. Let us be gone, Raoul.”
“Monsieur le comte, I wish I were able to tell you—”
“Oh, not at all; I am not the man to reproach a servant with discretion.”
This word “servant” struck rudely on the ears of the demi-millionnaire Planchet, but natural respect and bonhomie prevailed over pride. “There is nothing indiscreet in telling you, monsieur le comte, M. d’Artagnan came here the other day—”
“Aha?”
“And remained several hours consulting a geographical chart.”
“You are right, then, my friend; say no more about it.”