He spoke of Ernest, too, with a strange familiarity, which made me believe that they had been acquainted. He showed himself to be intimate with the doings of the man I loved, knowing both his past movements and his present whereabouts.
"He is at Aix-les-Bains," he said, in reply to my question. "At the 'Hotel d'Europe.'"
"And she?"
"The signorina pains herself unnecessarily," the old man responded, with a slight touch of sympathy in his voice. "But if she desires to know, the person to whom she refers was, perhaps is still, at Aix—'Hotel Lamartine.'"
"He has gone there to play, I suppose?"
"Yes. She assists him, and has wonderful luck, just as she had at Monte Carlo. You remember?"
"Yes," I responded. "But were you actually there?"
He smiled, and from his face I knew that he also had witnessed that woman's fortune.
"And now?" I asked.
"From reports that have reached me, it seems that her luck has not deserted her. They made a coup at baccarat three nights ago, and won eighty thousand francs between them."