"Ah! I am proud. The Mademoiselle remember me," he exclaimed, bowing in the dark alley.
"Go on," urged Ruth, impatiently.
"It is of the leetle lady—Mademoiselle Picolet—I would speak," he said, more quickly.
"Our French teacher—yes."
"Then, knowing her, will the Mademoiselle take a small note from the poor musician to the good Picolet? 'Tis a small matter—no?"
"You want me to do this without telling anybody about it?" questioned Ruth, bluntly.
"Oui, oui, Mademoiselle! You have the discernment beyond your years. Indeed!"
"I knew it must be something underhanded you wanted," declared Ruth, boldly.
He laughed and Ruth saw a small envelope thrust toward her in the dusk of the passage. "You will take it?" he said.
"I will take it—providing you do not come there again," exclaimed Ruth.