“My friend,” returned Casimir sententiously, “you had better wait till you get paid.”
The Doctor winced, and began dragging his offensive brother-in-law towards Tentaillon’s. In the house there would be fewer auditors, and these already in the secret of his fall.
“Hullo!” cried Casimir, “there goes the stable-boy with his luggage; no, egad, he is taking it into the inn.”
And sure enough, Jean-Marie was seen to cross the snowy street and enter Tentaillon’s, staggering under a large hamper.
The Doctor stopped with a sudden, wild hope.
“What can he have?” he said. “Let us go and see.” And he hurried on.
“His luggage, to be sure,” answered Casimir. “He is on the move—thanks to the commercial imagination.”
“I have not seen that hamper for—for ever so long,” remarked the Doctor.
“Nor will you see it much longer,” chuckled Casimir; “unless, indeed, we interfere. And by the way, I insist on an examination.”
“You will not require,” said Desprez, positively with a sob; and, casting a moist, triumphant glance at Casimir, he began to run.