“What are monsieur’s orders?”
“Esther?”
“Madame went off this morning at a quarter to five. By Monsieur l’Abbe’s order, I admitted a new face—carriage paid.”
“A woman?”
“No, sir, an English woman—one of those people who do their day’s work by night, and we are ordered to treat her as if she were madame. What can you have to say to such hack!—Poor Madame, how she cried when she got into the carriage. ‘Well, it has to be done!’ cried she. ‘I left that poor dear boy asleep,’ said she, wiping away her tears; ‘Europe, if he had looked at me or spoken my name, I should have stayed—I could but have died with him.’—I tell you, sir, I am so fond of madame, that I did not show her the person who has taken her place; some waiting maids would have broken her heart by doing so.”
“And is the stranger there?”
“Well, sir, she came in the chaise that took away madame, and I hid her in my room in obedience to my instructions——”
“Is she nice-looking?”
“So far as such a second-hand article can be. But she will find her part easy enough if you play yours, sir,” said Europe, going to fetch the false Esther.
The night before, ere going to bed, the all-powerful banker had given his orders to his valet, who, at seven in the morning, brought in to him the notorious Louchard, the most famous of the commercial police, whom he left in a little sitting-room; there the Baron joined him, in a dressing gown and slippers.