“I dived into the edge of the wood, and after hearing what passed I considered that you might desire to know who the lady was.”
“Yes, I did—I do.”
“I overtook her very easily, and as she seemed quite lost, I said I was your servant. When I had set her on the avenue she wanted to find, she said I might go, and gave me a napoleon, and I was to thank you.”
“Did you follow her?”
“No; she seemed to want to go on alone. I hope monsieur approves.”
“I do.”
There was a curious delicacy about this which was explained when he added: “She is quite sure to let monsieur hear of her again. I ventured to mention your name.”
The point of view was Parisian enough, but I contented myself with a further word of satisfaction, although I had my doubts as to whether his theory would fit the case of my handsome countrywoman.
As I rose, about to go to bed, I said to Alphonse: “You will find in my card-case the card and address of Captain Merton. I shall want you to take a note to him in the morning.”
He came back with the case in his hand and said: “I saw you take out a card, sir, when we were at 12 Rue du Roi de Rome. You looked at it and put it back in the case. It is not there now, nor in any of your pockets, but I remember the address. Perhaps—” and he paused.