I was dumb. I had my hand in my coat; I fully intended to give her the miniature. It was my plain duty. And suddenly, overwhelmed, I remembered that it was wrapped in Polly Ann's silk handkerchief.
Madame la Vicomtesse remained for a moment where she was.
“Do not do anything until the morning,” she said. “You must go back to your lodgings at once.”
“That would be to lose time,” I answered.
“You must think of yourself a little,” she said. “Do as I say. I have heard that two cases of the yellow fever have broken out this afternoon. And you, who are not used to the climate, must not be out after dark.”
“And you?” I said.
“I am used to it,” she replied; “I have been here three months. Lest anything should happen, it might be well for you to give me your address.”
“I am with Madame Gravois, in the Rue Bienville.”
“Madame Gravois, in the Rue Bienville,” she repeated. “I shall remember. À demain, Monsieur.” She courtesied and went swiftly into Mrs. Temple's room. Seizing my hat, I opened the door and found myself in the dark street.