France -- History -- Second Empire, 1852-1870 -- Fiction
I therefore hurried to Hyde Park Street, and had the good fortune to
find all the party within. I made known the contents of Sander's
letter, adding thereto, for the benefit of the ladies, John Turner's
comments and my own suspicions.
"We shall catch him yet!" cried Alphonse, forgetting in the excitement
of the moment the dignified reserve which had of late stood between
us. "Bravo, Howard! we shall catch him yet."
He wrung my hand effusively, and then, remembering himself, glanced at
Isabella, as I thought, and lapsed into attentive and suspicious
silence.
Having made my report I withdrew, and at the corner of the street was
nearly run over by a private hansom cab, at that time a fashionable
vehicle among men about town. I caught a glimpse of a courteous gloved
hand, and Mr. Devar's face wreathed in the pleasantest of smiles.
"You omitted to tell me at what hour you dine," was the remark with
which Mr. Devar made his entrance. He refused to accept a chair, and
took his stand on the hearth-rug without monopolising the fire, and
with perfect ease and a word for every one.
"As I drove here I passed your friend Mr. Howard," he said presently,
and Isabella said "Ah!"
"Yes, and he looked somewhat absorbed."
Mr. Devar waited, and after a pause, kindly continued to interest
himself in so unworthy a subject.
"Did you not tell me," he remarked, "that Mr. Howard is engaged on
some--er--quixotic enterprise--the search for a fortune he has lost?"
"The fortune is Monsieur Giraud's," said the lady of the house.
Devar turned to Alphonse with a bow appropriately French.
"Then I congratulate Monsieur on his--possibilities."
His manner of speech was suggestive of a desire to conceal a glibness
which is usually accounted a fault.
"And I hope that Mr. Howard's obvious absorption was not due
to--discouragement."
"On the contrary," answered Isabella, "Mr. Howard has just given us a
most hopeful report."
"Has he caught the thief?"
"No; but his agent, a Mr. Sander, writes from Brussels that he has
traced the thief to the Netherlands, and there seems to be some
probability that he will be taken."
"My experience of thieves," said Mr. Devar airily, "has been small.
But I imagine they are hard to take when they once get away. Mr.
Howard is, I fear, wasting his time."
Isabella answered nothing to this, though her pinched lips seemed to
indicate a doubt whether such a waste was in reality going forward.
"Our neighbour's enterprise usually appears to be a waste of time,
does it not?" he said, with the large tolerance of a man owning to
many failings.
Alphonse shrugged his shoulders and spread out his hands with a
gesture of helplessness, further accentuated by the bandage on his
wrist.
"I do not so much want to catch the thief as to possess myself of the
money," he said.
"You are charitable, Monsieur Giraud."
"No--I am poor."
Devar laughed in the pleasantest manner imaginable.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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