"
"As Monsieur desires. Ah, I came near forgetting. There is a
note for Monsieur, which came this afternoon while Monsieur was
asleep."
The envelope was unstamped, and the scrawl was unfamiliar to
Maurice. On opening it he was surprised to find a hurriedly
written note from Fitzgerald. In all probability it had been
brought by the midnight courier on his return from the duchy.
"In God's name, Maurice, why do you linger?
To-morrow morning those consols must be here
or they will be useless. Hasten; you know what
it means to me.
Fitzgerald."
Maurice perused it twice, and pulled at his lips. "Madame
becomes impatient. Poor devil. Somebody is likely to become
suddenly rich and somebody correspondingly poor. What will they
say when I return empty-handed? Like as not Madame will accuse
me--and Fitzgerald will believe her! . . . The archbishop! That
accounts for this bold move. And how the deuce did he get hold
of them? I give up." And his shoulders settled in resignation.
He passed down into the cafe, from there to his horse, which a
groom was holding at the curb.
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