“It is fortunate I did not send mine!” was his mental congratulation as he turned to his desk, intending to feed the dying flame with two more offerings. But where were they? Raymond pushed about his papers, but could not find either of the letters. Angélique was called. Had she seen them?
“Oh! yes; I gave them both to the postman,” she explained, with a nod of her flaps that implied mystery.
“How both? There was only one to go. The other had no address on it,” said Raymond.
“I saw it, M. le Comte.” Another mysterious nod.
“And yet you gave it to the postman?”
“Yes. I am a discreet woman, as M. le Comte knows, and he might have trusted me to keep a quiet tongue in my head; but monsieur knows his own affairs best,” added Angélique in an aggrieved tone.
“My good Angélique, explain yourself a little more lucidly,” said M. de la Bourbonais with slight impatience. “What could induce you to give the postman a letter that had neither name nor address on it?”
“Bless me! I thought M. le Comte did not wish me to know who he was writing to!”
“Good gracious!” exclaimed Raymond, too annoyed to notice the absurdity of the reply. “But how could the postman take it when he saw it was a blank envelope?”
“I did not let him see it; I slipped the two with my own hands into the bag,” said Angélique.