“Ebbery body say so; but law, massr, dis chile aint blind. I see Massr Looey ma’seff; an’ sure he wa’ stayin’ at de house for more ’n a week. You’s only a playin’ possum wi’ de ole nigga? dat’s what you are a doin’.”
“Another word, Pluto! Did Madame tell you where she was going?”
“No, massr, not adzactly tell me, but I knows whar, for all dat. Hyaw, hyaw, hyaw!” and the darkie displayed his ivories in a broad grin, while a knowing look was exhibited in the corners of his great eyes.
“Where was it?” I asked, without heeding his ludicrous humour.
“Gorry, massr; p’raps Massr Looey, he no let me tell?” and the black turned an inquisitive look towards De Hauteroche.
“It is just what I desire you to do. For Heaven’s sake, man, do not delay! This is most mysterious.”
“Berry queer! Well, Massr Looey, since you’s no objection, I tell dis gemman and Missy Adele; but I thort dey know’d all ’bout it a’ready. Ob coorse we brak folk only knows what we’ve heerd. It may be true, an’ it mayent, for all dat.”
“Out with it, man!”
“Well, de folks all say dat Ma’aselle ’Lympe she go be marry to young Massr Looey; and dat dey all go de way to France to have de knot tied—all de way to France! hyaw! hyaw!”
“To France?”