"No," he agreed; "perhaps not. You are doubtless quite right to investigate. I wish you success—I wish that I myself might aid you, there is so much of interest in the case to me; but I fear that to be impossible. I must rest—I who have so many affairs calling me, so little desire to rest! Is not the fate ironical?"
And he breathed a sigh, which was doubtless genuine enough.
"Will you go to Paris?" I asked.
"Oh, no; not at once. At Havre I shall meet my agent and transact my affairs with him. Then I shall seek some place of quiet along the coast."
"Yes," I said to myself, with leaping heart, "Etretat!" But I dared not speak the word.
"I shall write to you," he added, "when I have settled. Where do you stay at Paris?"
"We haven't decided yet," I said.
"We?" he repeated.
"Didn't I tell you? Mr. Royce, our junior partner, is with me—he's had a breakdown in health, too, and needed a rest."
"It is no matter where you stay," he said; "I shall write to you at the poste restante. I should like both you and your friend to be my guests before you return to Amer-ric'."