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"That stupid servant!" squealed Madame Rousseau, hugging the baby to her breast in frantic relief. "Oh, what a fright I have had. Take the baby, Jean. Mon dieu! Do not let it fall! Oh, m'sieur, madame, you will never know how I was anguished. I thought I had lost my darling, my adored one. The black-hand what-you-call-him non, non, the kidnapper. My baby!
Jean freed his hand and sat down in one of the chairs near the table. His eyes turned toward the window. "You need not fear another shot, M'sieur," he said quietly. "The man who fired that will not fire again." "You killed him?" Jean bowed his head without replying. The movement was neither of affirmation nor denial: "He will not fire again." "It was more than one against one," persisted Philip.
Give him confidence the most perfect confidence. Don't play the jealous husband yet. That will come afterwards. Bon soir, m'sieur;" and when I had bowed over her soft little hand, she turned and swept out of the room with a loud frou-frou of her silken train. That night I sat before the fire smoking for a long time.
"Is Monseigneur at home?" he asked. "Oui, m'sieur. His Excellency has mounted a little half-hour ago," said the man. Alec nodded. "Now for it!" he said to himself. His father, a born fop, a boulevardier by adoption, cultivated habits that seemed to follow the mechanical laws of those clockwork manikins that ingenious horologists contrive for the amusement of children, big and little.
"Oh, M'sieur, it's all over; I swear it!" Francine cried in protest. "But I loved him well, and he loved me oh, how he loved me, M'sieur le Comte! Pardon, M'sieur, but at that time I didn't think of being a comtesse, M'sieur le Comte. And when M'sieur spoke to me, I didn't know what to do.
So I went to Andoche, and I told him all yes, all, M'sieur that my heart was his, but that my duty was to her. And Andoche, ah, what a good heart, M'sieur he understood we wept together." She choked a minute, put her handkerchief hastily to her eyes, "Pardon, M'sieur; and he said it was right, and I kissed him I hide nothing, M'sieur will pardon me that, and he went away!"
"And M'sieur made a most model 'husband, I assure you," declared the pretty Valentine, with a musical laugh. "But what have you done?" I inquired, half turning, but afraid to take my eyes from the road. "Be patient. We'll explain everything when we get to Cassel," responded Valentine. And with that I had to be content.
He likewise was casting inquiring glances at divers windows few if any at the plants until the faithful Charles restored him to earth by means of certain subdued injunctions and less moderate gesticulations, from which it could be readily gathered that "M'sieur was eating, not bathing."
"Give him some in the tea," suggested Gys, noting that Maurie swayed a little. "Sit down, man, and be comfortable. That's it. I'd give a million dollars for your nerve." "Have you so much money?" asked Maurie. "No." "Then I cannot see that you lack nerve," said the little Belgian thoughtfully. "I was watching you to-day, M'sieur Doctor, and I believe what you lack is courage."
"It is suggested, M'sieur," said the polite LaChance, "that you walk to the corner beyond, turn to the left and there you will find the car in plain view. It was removed by two gentlemen soon after you condescended to honour us with a visit of inspection, and thereby you have escaped much unnecessary attention from the curious who always infest the vicinity of police offices."
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