“Say twenty-five thousand francs. She has owed us more than that before.”
“Really?” remarked Mascarin, “that woman has been grossly libelled; she is vain, frivolous, and fond of admiration, but nothing more. For a whole fortnight I have been prying into her life, but I can’t hit upon anything in it to give us a pull over her. The debt may help us, however. Does her husband know that she has an account with us?”
“Of course he does not; he is most liberal to her, and if he inquired—”
“Then we are all right; we will send in the bill to him.”
“But, my good sir,” urged Van Klopen, “it was only last week that she paid us a heavy sum on account.”
“The more reason to press her, for she must be hard up.”
Van Klopen would have argued further, but an imperious sign from Mascarin reduced him to silence.
“Listen to me,” said Mascarin, “and please do not interrupt me. Are you known to the domestics at the house of the Viscountess?”
“Not at all.”
“Well, then, at three o’clock sharp, the day after to-morrow, call on her. Her footman will say that Madame has a visitor with her.”