"You apparently credit the youth with clairvoyance, my dear chap. Supposing he has come down here, how could he know that you'd arrived?"
"I wired him from Digne, telegraphing to the Poste Restante at Monte Carlo, where he would certainly think of enquiring, if he took much interest in my movements. In that message I made it very clear that I should expect him to stick to our bargain, and I have an impression that he will."
"He may. But, look here, my dear fellow,"—Jack now had the decency to lower his voice,—"have you no red blood in your veins? Mercédès—the real Mercédès—nearly restored to health and spirits by her run with us through splendid air and scenery, is to unveil her charms this evening at dinner. You have irreverently nicknamed her the Perpetual Mushroom. To-night, you will see—but you don't deserve to be told what you will see, if you haven't the curiosity to find out at the first opportunity for yourself."
"Second opportunities, like second thoughts, are better than first," said I. "I shall he delighted to take the second opportunity of meeting Miss Mercédès—by the way, what is her other name? You always seemed to take it for granted that I knew; but if it was ever mentioned in the summer, I've forgotten."
"You should be ashamed to admit that you could deliberately and stoically forget a charming young lady's name, and you don't deserve to have your memory jogged. You shall be told the heiress's name when you meet her, and not before."
"I must possess my soul in patience until to-morrow, then," I replied, "for to me one pal in the bush is worth twenty heiresses in the hand, and I am now going out to scour the said bush."
"Which means the Casino, no doubt."
"I shall stroll in, when I've got rid of the dust. The Rooms are the place to come across people."
"All right, gang your ain gait, my son, and I suppose I must wish you luck. Daresay we shall see each other before bedtime."
A few hours later, I was walking down through the gardens, on my way to the Casino. The young grass, sown last month, had already become green velvet, and the flowers were as fresh as if they had been created an hour ago. The air smelled of La France roses and orange blossoms, though I saw neither. Some pretty Austrian girls were walking about in muslin frocks and gauzy hats, though by this time, in England, women were putting on their fur boas in deference to autumn; and a few days ago I had been lost in a snowstorm on a middle-sized mountain of Savoie.