"No, no. O no."
"And yet," he said, "I think we ought to tell the police at once."
I advanced some obvious objections. "At any rate," I said, "go in, will you, please, and see if he hasn't come home, while we were away."
"Why, yes, that is the first thing," laughed he, and went.
As I waited for him in the still street, I heard far away a quick footstep. By and by I saw a man pass under a distant lamp, coming toward me. I looked with all my eyes. Just then my neighbor came back. "Listen," I murmured. "Watch when that man comes under the next light."
He watched. "It's Fontenette!"
"Well," said the Creole as he joined us, "he's yondeh all right—except sick.
"Yes, he cou'n't tell anybody where to take him, and a doctor found that letteh on him print' outside with yo' uptown address; and so he put him in a cab an' sen' him yondeh, and sen' word he muz 'ave been sick sinze sev'l hours, an' get him in bed quick don't lose a minute."
"And so he's in bed at my house!" I put in approvingly.
"Ah, no! I coul'n' do like that; but I do the bes' I could; he is at my 'ouse in bed. An' my own doctor sen' word what to do an' he'll come in the mawning. And (to our neighbor) yo' madame do uz that kineness to remain with Madame Fontenette whiles I'm bringing his wife."