Hardin peers through the grindstone, and evolves his orders. He acts with Napoleon's rapidity. His answer reads:
"Let her alone. Tell her to notify Laroyne & Co., 16 Rue Vivienne, when ready to sell her goods. Wait orders."
Hardin revolves in his busy brain every turn of fortune's wheel.
Has Natalie an intrigue?
Is she already secretly married? Is the heiress of Lagunitas dead?
The labors of his waking hours and the brandy bottle only tell him of an unfaithful woman's vagaries; a greedy lover's plots, or the curiosity of the dark-eyed maid, whose avarice is above her fidelity.
Bah! she will tattle. No woman can resist it; they all talk.
But this Italian cur; he must be watched.
The child! Pshaw; she is a girl in frocks. But Villa Rocca is a needy man of brains and nerve; he must be foiled.
Now, what is her game? Hardin must acknowledge that she is true to her trust, so far.