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It might save time if you would give me their names." "Now it is you who ask me to risk losing an enjoyable evening. But so be it. Le Comte de Lorgnes?" Mademoiselle Reneaux looked blank. "Madame la Comtesse de Lorgnes?" The young woman shook her head. "Both of a class sure to be conspicuous in such places as Maxim's," Lanyard explained. "The names, then, are probably fictitious."
"It's like this: I've told you how we came together, the five of us, including Jules and Monsieur le Comte de Lorgnes. Now we expect this venture, our first, to pan out handsomely. There'll be a juicy melon cut when we get to New York. There's a lot more I think you understand than the Montalais plunder to whack up on.
Grasping the situation, Eve de Montalais turned to the quartet eyes that glimmered in a face otherwise quite composed. "But how surprising!" she declared. "Madame la Comtesse de Lorgnes Monsieur Monk Mr. Phinuit how delightful to see you all again!" The civility met with inadequate appreciation.
But when we got there, it wasn't. The frantic way we looked for it made me think of you pawing that table for your candle, after de Lorgnes had lifted it behind your back. And then of a sudden they jumped us, Popinot and his crew; though we didn't know who in hell; it might have been the château people. In fact, at first I thought it was....
They have the imagination, the courage, the skill; and if they ever get wind of the fortune Madame de Montalais keeps locked up here..." "What of the Lone Wolf?" the Comtesse de Lorgnes added. "I have heard that one is once more in France." Duchemin blinked incredulously at the speaker. "But when did you hear that, madame la comtesse?" "Quite recently, monsieur."
In the meantime, anybody who might enquire for Monsieur le Comte de Lorgnes should be directed to seek him in the café.
"Still, it's far simpler than you'd think." "One has found that true of most mysteries, monsieur." "I don't mind telling you all I feel at liberty to.... You seem to have a pretty good line on mademoiselle, and I've told you what I know about de Lorgnes. As for the skipper, he's the black sheep of a good old New England family.
"But this is most interesting how did you get separated, you and de Lorgnes?" "Bad luck, a black night, and I guess there's no more question about this your friend, Popinot-Dupont. I'll say this for that blighter: as a self-made spoil-sport, he sure did give service!" Phinuit gave his whiskey and soda a reminiscent grin. "And we thought we were being bright, at that!
It was not feasible to dress and pursue, even had it been wise. And Lanyard was vexed. Dupont, he felt, was hardly playing fair, after giving one every reason to believe he meant to go through to Paris. And what under heaven did the brute think to accomplish in Laroche? Was he still after the Comte de Lorgnes? Then the latter must likewise have fled the train! Or else ...
Monk was sketching rapidly for the benefit of Madame de Sévénié the excuse for his present plight. A chance meeting at Monte Carlo, he said, with his old friends, the Comte et Comtesse de Lorgnes, had resulted in their yielding to his insistence that they tour with him back to Paris by this roundabout way. "A whim of my age, madame."
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