“It shall be done, Madame la Comtesse.”
“And let me tell you,” she now added, with the sweetest and archest of smiles, “that if you succeed in this, M. le Comte de Nolé de St. Pris will gladly pay you the five thousand francs which he refuses to give to those miscreants.”
Five thousand francs! A mist swam before my eyes,
“Mais, Madame la Comtesse . . .” I stammered.
“Oh!” she added, with an adorable uptilting of her little chin, “I am not promising what I cannot fulfil. M. le Comte de Nolé only said this morning, apropos of dog thieves, that he would gladly give ten thousand francs to anyone who succeeded in ridding society of such pests.”
I could have knelt down on the hard floor, Sir, and . . .
“Well then, Madame,” was my ready rejoinder, “why not ten thousand francs to me?”
She bit her coral lips . . . but she also smiled. I could see that my personality and my manners had greatly impressed her.
“I will only be responsible for the first five thousand,” she said lightly. “But, for the rest, I can confidently assure you that you will not find a miser in M. le Comte de Nolé de St. Pris.”
I could have knelt down on the hard floor, Sir, and kissed her exquisitely shod feet. Five thousand francs certain! Perhaps ten! A fortune, Sir, in those days! One that would keep me in comfort—nay, affluence, until something else turned up. I was swimming in the empyrean and only came rudely to earth when I recollected that I should have to give Theodore something for his share of the business. Ah! fortunately that for the moment he was comfortably out of the way! Thoughts that perhaps he had been murdered after all once more coursed through my brain: not unpleasantly, I’ll admit. I would not have raised a finger to hurt the fellow, even though he had treated me with the basest ingratitude and treachery; but if someone else took the trouble to remove him, why indeed should I quarrel with fate?