“If you will be so kind as to wait here, Messieurs,” said Mademoiselle, “I will call my mother.”

And she left us.

I sat down, rather uncomfortably, but Nick took a stand and stood staring down at me with folded arms.

“How I have undervalued you, Davy,” he said.

“I am not proud of it,” I answered shortly.

“What the deuce is to do now!” he asked.

“I cannot linger here,” I answered; “I have business with Monsieur de Saint-Gre, and I must go back to New Orleans at once.”

“Then I will wait for you,” said Nick.  “Davy, I have met my fate.”

I laughed in spite of myself.

“It seems to me that I have heard that remark before,” I answered.

He had not time to protest, for we heard footsteps in the hall, and Mademoiselle entered, leading an older lady by the hand.  In the light of the doorway I saw that she was thin and small and yellow, but her features had a regularity and her mien a dignity which made her impressing, which would have convinced a stranger that she was a person of birth and breeding.  Her hair, tinged with gray, was crowned by a lace cap.

“Madame,” I said, bowing and coming forward, “I am David Ritchie, from Kentucky, and this is my cousin, Mr. Temple, of Charlestown.  Monsieur Gratiot and Colonel Chouteau, of St. Louis, have been kind enough to give us letters to Monsieur de Saint-Gre.”  And I handed her one of the letters which I had ready.

“You are very welcome, Messieurs,” she answered, with the same delightful accent which her daughter had used, “and you are especially welcome from such a source.  The friends of Colonel Chouteau and of Monsieur Gratiot are our friends.  You will remain with us, I hope, Messieurs,” she continued.  “Monsieur de Saint-Gre will return in a few days at best.”

“By your leave, Madame, I will go to New Orleans at once and try to find Monsieur,” I said, “for I have business with him.”

“You will return with him, I hope,” said Madame.

I bowed.

“And Mr. Temple will remain?” she asked, with a questioning look at Nick.

“With the greatest pleasure in the world, Madame,” he answered, and there was no mistaking his sincerity.  As he spoke, Mademoiselle turned her back on him.

I would not wait for dinner, but pausing only for a sip of cool Madeira and some other refreshment, I made my farewells to the ladies.  As I started out of the door to find Benjy, who had been waiting for more than an hour, Mademoiselle gave me a neatly folded note.

“You will be so kind as to present that to my father, Monsieur,” she said.

CHAPTER XIII

MONSIEUR AUGUSTE ENTRAPPED