He put out his hand for the note; but I kept my grasp on it.  Honesty was not written large—­no, nor plain to read—­on Bontet’s fat face.

“I heard little of it; but the young lady said, as they hurried upstairs:  ‘Where is he?  Where is he?’”

“Yes, yes!”

And I held out the note to him.  He had earned it.  And greedily he clutched it, and stowed it in his breeches pocket under his blouse.

“I heard no more; they hurried her up; the old lady had her by one arm and the duke by the other.  She looked distressed—­why, I know not; for I suppose”—­here a sly grin spread over the fellow’s face—­“that the pretty present I saw is for her.”

“It’s the property of the duke,” I said.

“But gentlemen sometimes make presents to ladies,” he suggested.

“It may be his purpose to do so.  Bontet, I want to see the young lady.”

He laughed insolently, kicking his toe against the wall.

“What use, unless you have a better present, sir?  But it’s nothing to me.  If you can manage it, you’re welcome.”

“But how am I to manage it?  Come, earn your money, and perhaps you’ll earn more.”

“You’re liberal, sir;” and he stared at me as though he were trying to look into my pocket and see how much money was there.  I was glad that his glance was not so penetrating.  “But I can’t help you.  Stay, though.  The old lady has ordered coffee for two in the sitting-room, and bids me rouse the duke when it is ready:  so perhaps the young lady will be left alone for a time.  If you could steal up—­”

I was not in the mood to stand on a punctilio.  My brain was kindled by Marie’s words, “Where is he?” Already I was searching for their meaning and finding what I wished.  If I could see her, and learn the longed-for truth from her, I should go in good heart to my conflict with the duke.

“Go to your room,” said Bontet, whom my prospective largesse had persuaded to civility and almost to eagerness, “and wait.  If madame and the duke go there, I’ll let you know.  But you must risk meeting them.”

“I don’t mind about that,” said I; and, in truth, nothing could make my relations with the pair more hostile than they were already.

My business with Bontet was finished; but I indulged my curiosity for a moment.

“You have a good stable over there, I see,” I remarked.  “How many horses have you there?”

The fellow turned very red:  all signs of good humor vanished from his face; my bribe evidently gave me no right to question him on that subject.

“There are no horses there,” he grunted.  “The horses are in the new stable facing the road.  This one is disused.”

“Oh, I saw you come out from there, and I thought—­”

“I keep some stores there,” he said sullenly.

“And that’s why it’s kept locked?” I asked at a venture.

“Precisely, sir,” he replied.  But his uneasy air confirmed my suspicions as to the stable.  It hid some secret, I was sure.  Nay, I began to be sure that my eyes had not played me false, and that I had indeed seen the face I seemed to see.  If that were so, friend Bontet was playing a double game and probably enjoying more than one paymaster.