“Monsieur, when once this lady has been seen, she is not to be forgotten.”
“Ha!” exclaimed the captain; “I told you so, Greville. But go on, Alphonse.”
“And cut it short,” said I, impatient.
Alphonse paused. “Circumstances, monsieur, oblige me to speak in some detail. I was two years in the service. Those who watch and follow madame are of the best. I know them. Therefore there is something serious.”
“And her name?” I asked.
“Mme. Bellegarde, Rue de St. Victor, No. 31—a small private hôtel. I regret not to be able to report more fully, but I am well known as monsieur’s valet. To appear too curious would be unwise.”
I regarded my valet with increasing respect, while Merton ejaculated, “Damn such a country!” and I asked:
“Is that all?”
“Yes, monsieur; but circumstances—”