“Sacré Dieu! Monsieur—you are jesting?”
“Alas! no. Look through the window, Monsieur Gardette—that is Luis De Hauteroche.”
The carriage was directly under the window; and Luis and Adele, seated in it, were visible through the half-open Venetian.
“Certainly! it is he and his sister! I know them both—pretty children! I knew the old Colonel well Mon Dieu! Monsieur—is what you tell me true?”
“My friends will confirm it?”
“Pardieu! I fear it needs no confirmation. Ah! now I comprehend—no answer—the thousand dollar bill—this accounts for it—his staying so closely by the villa—friends not received there—the number of cheques drawn!—Mon Dieu! Madame Dardonville is lost—we are all lost!”
“Let us hope not yet. It may still be possible to intercept this villainous adventurer, and frustrate his scheme of infamy?”
“Possible, Monsieur!—no, no—impossible! I can think of no means—how would you act?”
“Follow them, of course?”
“Ah! Monsieur, it is easy to say follow them. The boat left yesterday. She is a fast boat; she is the mail-packet. There is no other for Cincinatti—not one for a week.”