"You are looking fresh and well," he said, in his abrupt way, "so I suppose you are engaged in some mischief."
"Not exactly. But what I began in play is continuing in earnest."
"Yes," he said, looking at me with his easy smile while he dropped a piece of sugar into his coffee-cup. "Yes; young men are fond of walking into streams without ascertaining the depth on the farther side."
"I suppose you were young yourself once?" retorted I, bringing forward a chair.
"Yes—but I was always fat. Women always laughed at me behind my back. And, with a woman half the fun is to let you know her intention as she passes. I returned the compliment in my sleeve."
"I do not see what women have to do in this matter," said I.
"No—but I do. How is Mademoiselle this morning? Sit down; have a cup of coffee, and tell me all about her."
I sat down, and related to him the events of the past night. Turner's face was grave enough when I had finished, and I saw him note with some surprise that he had allowed his coffee to get cold.
"I don't like the sound of it," he said. "One never knows with a Frenchman—he is never too old to talk of his mother, or make an ass of himself."
The English banker was of the greatest assistance to me during that most anxious day. But we found no clew, nor discovered any reason for the Vicomte's disappearance. I went back in the evening to the Hôtel Clericy, and there found Madame de Clericy and Lucille awaiting me, with that calmness which is admirable when there is nothing else but waiting to be done.