“And you will go with me? You perceive, Monsieur, you are invited.”
“And M’amselle De Hauteroche?”
“Oh! certainly. Adele will go too. In truth, my sister has not travelled much of late. She has only been once to Saint Louis since papa’s death. I am sure she will enjoy the trip exceedingly. And you will go, then?”
“Willingly. Your sister will need time for preparation. Shall we proceed to the Rue de Bourgogne?”
“Allons! on our way we can call at the post-office. Perhaps the missing letter is still lying there—we may yet recover it.”
“It can matter little now, I fancy; but there is no harm in trying.”
I had not much hope of success. Something whispered to me that the document was gone from the post-office, and had fallen into other hands: though of what use could it be to any one? Perhaps it had been detained by some one, in the expectation that it contained an enclosure of money—an occurrence which the loose arrangements of the American post-office rendered by no means uncommon.
I was now more than ever convinced of the correctness of my first impressions. On that morning when I visited the post-office, a letter for De Hauteroche had been asked for and taken out; and as he now informed me that he had received no letter, nor did he remember having sent any one to the office on that particular day—there was but one conclusion to be drawn. Some one, unauthorised by him, had obtained the letter—no doubt the very one in question.
The coincidence of Despard’s presence—for it must have been he whom I had mistaken for De Hauteroche—led me to other misgivings. I had not seen the person who made inquiry for the letter—the files of men in front preventing me—but judging by the time at which the spoilsman passed out at the exit end of the slip, he must have been near the delivery-window when the inquiry was made. These circumstances, taken in connection with what I already knew of this person, naturally led me to the conclusion that De Hauteroche’s letter had fallen into his hands. His motive for such a vile act I could only guess at. The hope of obtaining money, perhaps—though there might appear but slight probability of that. In truth, the affair was sufficiently inexplicable; and neither De Hauteroche nor I could arrive at any definite resolution of it at the time.
On our arriving at the post-office, a gleam of light was thrown upon the transaction.