"What?" protested Ansley in astonishment. "You must stay until Rex comes, at least! Why, that's the event of the carnival! The evening hasn't started yet."
"I'm growing old and sober, doctor," and Gramont chuckled. "To tell the truth," and he gave Fell a whimsical glance, "I am head over ears in some new business matters which have actually fired me with the divine afflatus of enthusiasm. What's more, I was drifting with the crowds all afternoon, and I've just begun to realize that I'm dead tired. Rex or no Rex, I'm afraid that I'd best say good-night, gentlemen."
Gramont persisted in his intention, and bade the other two good-night. In truth, he cared very little about Rex, and a very great deal about getting off to Bayou Terrebonne early in the morning. The oil matter filled his mind. He had formed a thousand plans, he was fired with enthusiasm, and was anxious to make his preliminary investigation.
Returning to the auditorium, Gramont sought out his hosts and made his farewells, although not without encountering some opposition. At length he was free, he had obtained his hat and coat, and as he passed out of the building he again met Fell and Ansley, who were finishing their cigars at the entrance. He bade them a final adieu and plunged into the crowd.
It lacked half an hour of midnight. The streets were filled with merrymakers, who were making the night riotous with songs, yells, and noise-producing apparatus, anticipating the arrival of Rex. For a little Fell and Doctor Ansley stood talking, then tossed away their cigars and turned into the building.
They halted in the foyer before the appearance of two men—Joseph Maillard, looking extremely agitated, and behind him old Judge Forester, who wore a distinctly worried expression.
"Ah, here are Fell and Ansley!" exclaimed Maillard, almost with relief. "I—ah—my friends, I don't suppose you've seen Bob recently?"
Ansley was silent. Jachin Fell, however, responded with a cold nod of assent.
"Yes," he said in his peculiarly toneless manner. "Yes, we have. At least, I believe it was he——"
"I'm worried," said Maillard, anxiously, hurriedly. He made an expressive gesture of despair. "He's in costume, of course. I've been given to understand that—well, that he has been—well, drinking."