“Dear me, no, monsieur. The day of your arrest, she sent for a hack, got into it with her trunks, and disappeared; and no one has seen or heard of her since.”
This was another blow to the unhappy cashier.
“And where are my servants?”
“Gone, monsieur; your father paid and discharged them.”
“I suppose you have my keys?”
“No, monsieur; when your father left here this morning at eight o’clock, he told me that a friend of his would take charge of your rooms until you should return. Of course you know who he is—a stout gentleman with red whiskers.”
Prosper was stupefied. What could be the meaning of one of his father’s friends being in his rooms? He did not, however, betray any surprise, but quietly said:
“Yes: I know who it is.”
He quickly ran up the stairs, and knocked at his door.
It was opened by his father’s friend.