“I have the kind of news I expected,” she answered, a smile tempering the gravity of her face; “Auguste is, as usual, in need of money.”
“Then you have found them,” I answered, my voice betraying my admiration for the feat.
Madame la Vicomtesse shrugged her shoulders slightly.
“I did nothing,” she said. “From what you told me, I suspected that as soon as Auguste reached Louisiana he would have a strong desire to go away again. This is undoubtedly what has happened. In any event, I knew that he would want money, and that he would apply to a source which has hitherto never failed him.”
“Mademoiselle Antoinette!” I said.
“Precisely,” answered Madame la Vicomtesse. “When I reached home last night I questioned Antoinette, and I discovered that by a singular chance a message from Auguste had already reached her.”
“Where is he?” I demanded.
“I do not know,” she replied. “But he will be behind the hedge of the garden at Les Îles at eleven o'clock—unless he has lost before then his love of money.”
“Which is to say—”
“He will be there unless he is dead. That is why I sent for you, Monsieur.” She glanced at me. “Sometimes it is convenient to have a man.”