“I cannot laugh,” said Toto, looking at his boots with the air of a martyr.
“Well, then, smoke.”
“Thanks, yes, I will take a cigarette. I want to speak to you; but first I want Auguste to do something for me.”
He sat down at the writing table and made out a holograph check for ten thousand francs, and dispatched Gaillard with it to the bank.
“Go to Porcheron’s and get a brougham, and come back in it, my dear fellow.”
“But your luggage?”
“Oh, I will buy things wherever I go.”
Gaillard departed, and Toto resumed his seat.
“I want to tell you all,” he said. “There is a girl; she brought this mischief upon me, though it was not entirely her fault.”