Yours, &c. &c.
Henry Clifford.
[Clifford folds the Letter.
Sir C. Our French friend is the man to deliver it, and to bring the answer. I am going home; you'll overtake me.
[Exit.
Enter Chignon.
Cliff. [Sealing the Letter.] You come apropos, monsieur. [Gives the Letter with an Air of Mystery.] Have the goodness to put this letter into Miss Alton's own hands.
Chignon. [To himself.] Mademoiselle Alton! Peste! My trick has not passed.
Cliff. To Miss Alton by herself—I am in all the secret.
Chignon. [To himself.] Devil take Tiffany, for making you so wise.