“Jack,” said the good woman, suddenly, “I am going to find your mother;” and she smiled encouragingly.
Yes, that is what he wants; now that he knows that he must die, he forgets all the wrongs his mother has been guilty of toward him.
But Bélisaire does not wish his wife to go. He knows that she holds in utter contempt “the fine lady,” as she calls Jack’s mother, that she detests the man with the moustache, and that she will make a scene, and perhaps—who knows but the police may be called in?
“No,” she said, “that is all nonsense;” but finally yielded to the persuasions of her husband, and allowed him to go in her stead.
“I will bring her this time, never fear!” he said, with an air of confidence.
“Where are you going?” asked the concierge, stopping him at the foot of the staircase.
“To M. D’Argenton’s.”
“Are you the man who was here last night?”
“Precisely,” answered Bélisaire, innocently.
“Then you need not go up, for there is no one there; they have gone to the country, and will not return for some time.”