“Yes, I remember.”
“He spoke to you in the yard.”
“That’s a fact.”
“What did he tell you?”
She hesitated for a moment, evidently trying to tax her memory; then,
“Nothing,” she replied, “that he had not already said before the Fortins; that he wanted to see you on important business, and was sorry not to find you in. What surprised me, though, is, that he was speaking as if he knew me, and knew that I was a friend of yours.” Then, striking her forehead,
“Perhaps you are right,” she went on. “Perhaps that man was indeed your father. Wait a minute. Yes, he seemed quite excited, and at every moment he looked around towards the door. He said it would be impossible for him to return, but that he would write to you, and that probably he would require your assistance and your services.”
“You see,” exclaimed Maxence, almost crazy with subdued excitement, “it was my father. He is going to write; to return, perhaps; and, under the circumstances, to apply to a commissary of police would be sheer folly, almost treason.”
She shook her head.
“So much the more reason,” she uttered, “why you should follow my advice. Have you ever had occasion to repent doing so?”