(In great haste.)
“Oh, ho!” said Fanferlot, accompanying his exclamation with a little whistle, as was his habit when he thought he had made a grand discovery. “Oh, ho!”
“Do you intend to open it?” questioned Mme. Alexandre.
“A little bit,” said Fanferlot, as he dexterously opened the envelope.
Mme. Alexandre leaned over her husband’s shoulder, and they both read the following letter:
“MONSIEUR RAOUL—Prosper is in prison, accused of a robbery which he never committed. I wrote to you three days ago.”
“What!” interrupted Fanferlot, “this silly girl wrote, and I never saw the letter?”
“But, little man, she must have posted it herself, the day she went to the Palais de Justice.”
“Very likely,” said Fanferlot propitiated. He continued reading:
“I wrote to you three days ago, and have no reply. Who will help Prosper if his best friends desert him? If you don’t answer this letter, I shall consider myself released from a certain promise, and without scruple will tell Prosper of the conversation I overheard between you and M. de Clameran. But I can count on you, can I not? I shall expect you at the Archangel day after to-morrow, between twelve and four.