CHAPTER XIII

A WAGER OF FOOLS

“It looks a narrow walk, my friend,” he said rather doubtfully, peering forward with shaded eyes, “and ’tis dark as Erebus; yet gladly will I make the venture for hope of the reward.”

The door closed behind him, shutting off the last vestige of light; and we, with our eyes accustomed to the gloom, could mark his dim outline as he advanced toward us.  His actions belied his words, for he moved with all his accustomed jauntiness along the uncertain foot-way, barely touching the top of the palisades with one hand to guide his progress.  He was almost upon the girl before he perceived either of us; and then his earliest words surprised me into silence.

“Ah, Toinette!” he cried eagerly, “I fear I must have kept you waiting overlong; yet I was with Mrs. Helm,—­a most fair and charming bride,—­and scarce noted the rapid passage of time.”

“I naturally supposed it was a woman,” she answered, with what I interpreted as a strained assumption of indifference, “as that has ever been your sufficient reason for breaking faith with me.”

“Do not interpret it so, I beg,” he hastened to implore.  “Surely, my being a few moments in arrears is not a matter sufficiently serious to be called a breakage of faith.  I do assure you, Toinette, you were never once absent from my thought.”

“Indeed?” she exclaimed incredulously, and with an echo of suppressed laughter in her voice.  “Then truly you are far more to be commiserated on this occasion than I, for in truth, Monsieur de Croix, I have not missed you over-much.  I have enjoyed most excellent company.”

“The mysterious spirits of the starry night?” he questioned, looking out into the darkness, “or the dim figures of your own imagination?”

“Very far from either,” she retorted, with a laugh; “a most substantial reality, as you are bound to confess.  Master Wayland, is it not time for you fitly to greet Captain de Croix?  He may deem you lax in cordiality.”

I can perceive now how dearly the laughing witch loved to play us one against the other, hiding whatever depth of feeling she may have had beneath the surface of careless innocence, and keeping us both in an uncertainty as aggravating as it was sweet.  I could not read the expression upon De Croix’s face in the gloom, yet I saw him start visibly at her almost mocking words, and there was a trace of ill-suppressed irritation in his voice.

“Saint Guise!  ’T was for that, then, he left us so mysteriously,” he exclaimed, unconsciously uttering his first thought aloud.  “But how knew he you were to be here?”

Before she could answer, I spoke, anxious to relieve her of embarrassment; for ’t was ever my nature to yield much without complaint.

“As it chances, Captain de Croix, she did not know,” I said, standing back from the palisades where he could see me more clearly.  “I left the table below with no thought of meeting Mademoiselle, and came out on this platform for a different purpose.  As you know, I am visiting Dearborn upon a special mission.”