“Mine is also mysterious,” she laughed nervously. “But tell me, who gave it to you?”
“Unfortunately, I must not tell, madame; I am sworn to secrecy,” I replied. Then I asked, “Why is it imperative that the packet should be conveyed to you in this manner?”
“Ah, signore, I am as ignorant as yourself. Besides, I also have taken an oath. It was a stipulation that I should explain nothing. I was to meet you here and receive the packet—to act as messenger, in fact. That is all.”
“Then we cannot exchange confidences,” I said disappointedly.
She shook her head.
“Very well; there is the mysterious packet;” and I handed it to her.
Then I tore a leaf from my pocket-book, and, together with a pencil, handed it to my strange visitor, who wrote in Italian the words, “Received of Signore the Englishman, the packet with seals intact.—Madame * * *”
Passing the paper back to me, she drew on the glove she had removed, and, rising, wished me a haughty adieu, remarking that she was obliged to leave for Modane by the diligence which would start almost immediately from the Hôtel de Ville.
I raised my hat, and after a graceful bow she turned, and, walking away along the quiet, old-world street, was soon lost in the gathering gloom.