After a silence Mr. Frasne resumed: “Why has he not come yet?”
“Who?”
“Maurice Roquevillard.”
“He won’t come,” flung out the clerk vindictively.
Mr. Frasne fixed him with his perspicacious eyes. He drew two conclusions from this examination: the rumour of his misfortune was already running through the town, and Philippeaux, whose jealousy he suspected, would be a safe ally for him. Nevertheless, he pretended ignorance.
“That’s right. He ought to be with his father.”
“No, Mr. Frasne. He took the train last night at midnight.”
“Where for?”
“Italy!”
“Ah, I understand at last,” avowed the solicitor this time.