“Surely there were two valises out here,” Château-Foix, with a premonition of disaster. “Where is my servant?—he was in charge of them.”
The driver grinned. “Looking after another kind of baggage when I saw him last,” he retorted. “That kind!” and he jerked his thumb at a pretty chambermaid who at that moment ran across the yard.
“Pierre!” cried the Marquis angrily, “where are you?”
The sound of his voice caused the Vicomte to emerge, without undue haste, from a doorway. “Is it time to start?” he asked nonchalantly, and by no means in the tone of a servant addressing his master.
“What have you done with the baggage?” asked his cousin, frowning. “Take your hands out of your pockets when you speak to me!”
Louis’ mouth twitched as he obeyed the hint.
“I told a man to put it on the diligence . . . Monsieur,” he answered soberly. “Isn’t it there? Where has the man got to?” He went back into the hotel, and returning after a moment’s absence beckoned Gilbert aside. “The fool put it on the Nonancourt diligence, which went three-quarters of an hour ago. They never said that there were two diligences starting from here.”
“So that our baggage is now on its way back to Dreux?”
“I’m afraid so. I’m exceedingly sorry. What can we do?”
Gilbert shrugged his shoulders. “Nothing. We must go on without it. Fortunately I have all my papers and money on me. Come along; they are waiting for us.”