He tore asunder the envelope, and perused the few lines it contained, then snatching up his hat, he rushed from the house, to the alarm of the waiters, who were inclined to think the stranger had suddenly lost his senses.
A quarter of an hour afterward he was at the Villa Moraquitos.
It was now ten o'clock, and eleven had been appointed for the performance of the marriage ceremony, but neither the bride nor bridemaid had as yet assumed the attire prepared for the occasion, and the elderly bridegroom, Don Juan Moraquitos, paced uneasily up and down his solitary chamber.
The gold-digger was admitted by the mulattress, Pepita. It was she who had carried the note to his hotel.
She conducted him to the elegant boudoir, usually occupied by Camillia Moraquitos and Pauline Corsi, but which was now untenanted.
The stranger gazed around him in bewilderment, but before he could ask a question of Pepita, she had hurried from the room.
He took the note from his waistcoat pocket, and once more devoured its contents.
"If Armand Tremlay would ascertain the fate of her whom he once loved, let him call without delay at the Villa Moraquitos."
He had read and reread these words, during the brief interval he had to wait, before he heard a light footstep approaching the door of the room.
The door opened, and Pauline Corsi stood before him.