Mme. Cadelle’s face had become somewhat anxious, and for over a minute she seemed to hesitate.
“Do you know,” she said at last, “that my answer is going to cost me a lot? They have promised me a pile of money; but I haven’t got it yet. And, if I say any thing, good-by! I sha’n’t have any thing.”
M. de Tregars was opening his lips to tell her that she might rest easy on that score; but she cut him short.
“Well, no,” she said: “Old Vincent hasn’t gone. He got up a comedy, so he told me, to throw the lady’s husband off the track. He sent off a whole lot of baggage by the railroad; but he staid in Paris.”
“And do you know where he is hid?”
“In the Rue St. Lazare, of course: in the apartment that I hired two weeks ago.”
In a voice trembling with the excitement of almost certain success, “Would you consent to take me there?” asked M. de Tregars.
“Whenever you like,—to-morrow.”
IX
As he left Mlle. Lucienne’s room,