George began to look very uncomfortable, and Gabrielle had tears in her eyes. "I am sorry to leave you, my dear Monsieur Caumont," now said the mother, "but it is growing chilly, and my daughter and I must return home. Remember, however, that from this time forth our home is yours. I leave you with my son, whom you ought to convert to a sensible way of thinking."
Madame Verdon rose up as she spoke, and Gabrielle followed her, but not until she had given her brother and her lover a meaning glance. The two young fellows, on being left alone, strolled towards a café at Albert's suggestion, and while quaffing a glass of beer, they began to chat like two old friends. Albert, who showed himself remarkably communicative, related his adventures with Mademoiselle Blanche Pornic, beginning with the horse-show and winding up with the announcement that he had dined with her on the previous evening at the Lion d'Or.
"At the Lion d'Or! that's singular," muttered George, thinking of the lunch ordered by Dargental, and at which Blanche had figured so prominently.
"Why is it singular? It seems to be a very popular restaurant. We had scarcely sat down when in came a gentleman whom Blanche knew, and whose name she told me—a Monsieur de Puymirol."
"Puymirol! are you sure that you are not mistaken in the name?" cried George. This was the first news that he had received of his friend for twenty-four hours, and it seemed strange that tidings should reach him in such a roundabout way.
"Perfectly sure, for Blanche told me an interesting story in connection with this gentleman. He was the intimate friend, it seems, of a Monsieur Dargental who was murdered a fortnight or so ago."
"Did she tell you that?"
"Yes, and a deal more. She pretends to think that the gentleman in question was murdered by one of his old flames—a Countess de Lescombat, whom she seems to hate. I even suspect that they must once have been rivals. But is this story really true? I never saw anything about it in the newspapers."
"There is this much truth in it: Dargental was killed by a pistol shot, but no one knows who fired it."
"I certainly hope it wasn't Blanche. That would rather dampen my ardour. Would you believe it, my dear fellow, she wanted me to pay a visit to this countess and threaten her, but of course, I refused."