The dim light in the office enabled Tantaine to hide the pleasure he felt on hearing these words.
“Ah,” answered he carelessly, as if it was a matter of but little moment, “and so you have found out all that, have you?
“Yes, and a heap besides. Just you listen. After her breakfast, my sweet Carry began to play cards with some chaps who had been grubbing at the next table. ‘Regular right down card sharpers and macemen,’ said I to myself, as I watched the way in which they faked the pasteboards. ‘They’ll get everything out of you, old gal.’ I was in the right, for in less than an hour she had to go up to the counter and leave one of her rings as security for the breakfast. He said he knew her, and would give her credit. ‘You are a trump,’ said she. ‘I’ll just trot off to my own crib and get the money.’”
“Did she go home?”
“Not she; she went to a real swell house in a bang up part of Paris, the Rue de Varennes. She knocked at the door, and in she went, while I lounged about outside.”
“Do you know who lives there?”
“Of course I do. The grocer round the corner told me that it was inhabited by the Duke—what was his blessed name? Oh, the Duke——”
“Was it the Duke de Champdoce?”
“That is the right one, a chap they say as has his cellars chock full of gold and silver.”
“You are rather slow, my lad,” said Tantaine, with his assumed air of indifference. “Get on a bit, do.”