"What does my lord say?"
"Plenty, and it's not pleasant to bear. He's getting fairly wild, and cart ropes won't hold him. He wants to go racing after Tiler now, and if he does he'll give away the whole show. I hope to heaven your boss will show his hand soon."
"It's not for me to make him, you must admit that. But cheer up, copain, things may mend."
They did, as often happens when they seem to be at their worst.
I have always been an early riser, and was specially so at Aix, now when the heat was intense, and the pleasantest hours of the day were before the sun had risen high. I was putting the finishing touches to my toilette about 7 a.m. when I heard a knock at my door, and without waiting permission l'Echelle rushed in.
"Already dressed? What luck! There is not a moment to lose. Come along. I've a fiacre at the door below."
He gave the établissement as the address, and we were soon tearing down the hill. As we drove along l'Echelle told me the news.
"It's come, that satanic telegram, and just what he wanted, I'm prepared to swear. He simply jumped for joy when he read it."
"But what was the message? Go on, go on, out with it!" I shouted almost mad with excitement.