I tarried no longer, but bidding this good youth and the generations of Baudry good-night, hastened on to my belated dinner.
“Amedee,” I said, when my cigar was lighted and the usual hour of consultation had arrived; “isn’t that old lock on the chest where Madame Brossard keeps her silver getting rather rusty?”
“Monsieur, we have no thieves here. We are out of the world.”
“Yes, but Trouville is not so far away.”
“Truly.”
“Many strange people go to Trouville: grand-dukes, millionaires, opera singers, princes, jockeys, gamblers—”
“Truly, truly!”
“And tourists,” I finished.
“That is well known,” assented Amedee, nodding.
“It follows,” I continued with the impressiveness of all logicians, “that many strange people may come from Trouville. In their excursions to the surrounding points of interest—”