Detective and mystery stories; Paris (France) -- Fiction
“A banknote for five hundred francs!” exclaimed Rose, with extreme
surprise. Paul did not utter a word. Had he seen the woodwork of the
chair upon which he was leaning burst into flower and leaf, he could not
have looked more surprised. Who could have expected to find such a sum
concealed beneath the old man’s tatters, and how could he have obtained
so much money? The idea that some robbery had been committed at once
occurred to both the young people, and they exchanged a meaning glance,
which, however, did not escape the observation of their visitor.
“Pooh, pooh!” said he, without appearing in the slightest degree
annoyed. “You must not give way to evil thoughts or suspicions. It is
a fact that banknotes for five hundred francs don’t often grow out of
a ragged pocket like mine. But I got this fellow honestly,--that I can
guarantee.”
Rose paid no attention to his words; indeed, she took no interest in
them. The note was there, and that was enough for her. She took it up
and smoothed it out as though the crisp paper communicated a pleasant
sensation to her fingers.
“I must tell you,” resumed Daddy Tantaine, “that I am employed by a
sheriff’s officer, and that, in addition, I do a little bill collecting
for various persons. By these means I have often comparatively large
sums in my possession, and I can lend you five hundred francs for a
short time without any inconvenience to myself.”
Paul’s necessities and conscience were fighting a hard battle, and
he remained silent, as a person generally does before arriving at a
momentous decision.
At length he broke the silence. “No,” said he, “your offer is one that I
cannot accept, for I feel--”
“This is no time, my dear Paul, to talk of feelings,” interrupted Rose;
“besides, can you not see that our refusal to accept the loan annoys
this worthy gentleman?”
“The young lady is quite right,” returned Daddy Tantaine. “Come, let
us say that the matter is settled. Go out and get in something to eat,
sharp, for it has struck four some time ago.”
At these words, Rose started, and a scarlet flush spread over her
cheek. “Four o’clock,” repeated she, thinking of her letter; but after a
moment’s reflection she stepped up to the cracked mirror, and arranging
her tattered skirts, took up the banknote and left the room.
“She is a rare beauty,” remarked Daddy Tantaine with the air of one who
was an authority in such matters, “and as clever as they make them.
Ah! if she had only some one to give her a hint, she might rise to any
height.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account