"They have all driven off together, monsieur," he announced eagerly, "and the French gentleman first of all inquired of the driver how much he would charge to take them to the Jolies Femmes. Two francs was the fare, and this was agreeable, so they have gone there."
"I hope, in this instance," said Brett gravely, "that the Jolies Femmes is the name of a hotel."
"But certainly," replied the porter, elevating his eyebrows; "what else could it be?"
He meditated on this question for five minutes after Brett's departure, and then an idea struck him.
"Ah," he cried, slapping his thigh with a grin, "he is a droll dog, that Englishman."
Brett, secure in the knowledge that his quarry had been located, drove back to his hostelry. He found Edith, Fairholme, and Talbot just sitting down to breakfast. He joined them, and had barely communicated his startling intelligence when Sir Hubert Fitzjames put in an appearance.
"Dear me," said the genial old soldier, smiling pleasantly at the assembled party. "I see you are all nearly as lazy as I have been myself. I hope you slept well, and enjoyed a quiet night."
The burst of merriment which greeted this remark not only amazed the worthy baronet, but startled the other guests in the dining-room.
"That is a strange thing," whispered a Frenchman to his wife. "I thought the English never laughed!"