“Bad news,” he said with a sheepish look.
“What?”
“That little Lucienne must have her soul riveted to her body. She is only wounded; and she’ll get over it.”
“Never mind Lucienne. What about M. de Tregars?”
“Oh! he is another sharp one. Instead of taking up our man’s provocation, he collared him, and took away from him the note I had sent him.”
Mme. de Thaller started violently.
“What is the meaning, then,” she asked, “of your letter of last night, in which you requested me to hand two thousand francs to the bearer?”
The man became pale as death.
“You received a letter from me,” he stammered, “last night?”
“Yes, from you; and I gave the money.”