“Well! think over it, my dear,” old Madame concluded; she rose and made for the door; “I’ll say good night now, Marcelle,” she said coolly. “I am tired too, and will sup in my room, then go early to bed. Come and kiss me, Micheline!” she added.
The girl obeyed; old Madame’s hand was now on the handle of the door.
“Are you too dazed,” she said with a not unkind touch of irony and turning to Bertrand, “to bid me good night, my dear?”
He came across to her, took her hand and kissed it.
“Good night, grandmama,” he murmured.
Smiling she held up the letter.
“The casket,” she said, “that holds the golden treasure.”
He put out his hand for it.
“May I have it?”
For a moment she seemed to hesitate, then shrugged her shoulders: