de Cartienne shook his head.
“No; he’s in the train by this time. He comes here every night, though. I’ll bring you down to-morrow, perhaps.”
“Are you coming back now?” I asked.
“No; I must see this thing through. You can go and at once, though. My carriage will take you back. I shall return by train. By the by, there’s a small favour I want to ask you.”
“Certainly.”
“I have kept a few private papers here, which I should not care to have examined should the search really take place. I want you to take them back to the hotel for me. The box is a little too heavy for me to carry, so I have told them to put it in the carriage as a footstool for you. You won’t mind that?”
“Not in the least,” I replied. “When shall I see you again?”
“At the hotel some time to-morrow. Come along now,” he added, putting on his coat.
He strolled with me to the front door and, throwing it open, listened intently.
There was no sound save the moaning of the wind in the bare trees which stood by the side of the house and the patter of the fast-falling rain. I stepped into the carriage and the Count came to the window to me.