M. Polperro did not know what to make of this big Englishman who had come in out of the night, bringing no luggage with him but one little bag.
Then he suddenly remembered! Why, of course, this was the friend of the pretty, charming, wealthy Madame Bailey; the English gentleman who had been staying during the past few days at the Pension Malfait! A gentleman who was called after a well-known cheese—yes, Chester was his name.
Then this Mr. Chester's departure from Lacville had been a fausse sortie—a ruse to get rid of the Comte de Virieu, who was also in love with the lovely young English widow?
Ah! Ah! M. Polperro felt very much amused. Never had he heard of anything so droll! But the Englishman's tale of love was not to run smooth after all, for now another complication had arisen, and the very last one any sensible man would have expected!
"Yes, M'sieur," said M. Polperro demurely, "it is all right! I had forgotten! As you say, the Comte de Virieu's room is now empty, but"—he hesitated, and with a sly look added, "indeed we have another room empty to-night—a far finer room, with a view over the lake—the room Madame Bailey occupied."
"The room Mrs. Bailey occupied?" echoed Chester. "Has Mrs. Bailey changed her room to-day?"
"Oh, no, M'sieur! She left Lacville this very evening. I have but just now received a letter from her."
The little man could hardly keep serious. Oh! those Englishmen, who are said to be so cold! When in love they behave just like other people.
