“And now,” the woman went on, “that you have just told me that your relative was a little weak in the head, I remember that this gentleman had a strange sort of way about him, and that he kept walking about the store as if he had fleas on his legs. And awful particular he was too! Nothing was handsome enough and strong enough for him; and he was anxious about the safety-locks, as he had, he said, many objects of value, papers, and securities, to put away.”
“And where did he tell you to send the two trunks?”
“Rue du Cirque, to Mme.—wait a minute, I have the name at the end of my tongue.”
“You must have it on your books, too,” remarked M. de Tregars.
The husband was already looking over his blotter.
“April 26, 1872,” he said. “26, here it is: ‘Two leather trunks, patent safety-locks: Mme. Zelie Cadelle, 49 Rue du Cirque.’”
Without too much affectation, M. de Tregars had drawn near to the shopkeeper, and was looking over his shoulder.
“What is that,” he asked, “written there, below the address?”
“That, sir, is the direction left by the customer ‘Mark on each end of the trunks, in large letters, “Rio de Janeiro.”’”
Maxence could not suppress an exclamation. “Oh!”