“They are rather pocket pistols—to carry if you are out at night; and we sell many to gentlemen who have occasion in the way of their business to carry large sums of money or valuables about with them. They give a sense of security, sir, even if no occasion arises for their use.”
“And this gentleman bought two? Who was he?”
“I don’t know, sir. He gave me no name.”
“And you didn’t know him by sight?”
“No, sir; perhaps he is a stranger. But indeed I’m almost that myself: I have but just set up business here.”
“Is it brisk?” I asked, examining the pistol.
“It is not a brisk place, sir,” the man answered regretfully. “Let me sell you one, sir!”
It happened to be, for the moment, in the way of my business to carry valuables, but I hoped it would not be for long, so that I did not buy a pistol; but I allowed myself to wonder what my friend Lafleur wanted with two—and they were not dueling pistols! If I had been going to keep the diamonds—but then I was not. And, reminded by this reflection, I set out at once for the convent.
Now the manner in which the Duchess of Saint-Maclou saw fit to treat me—who was desirous only of serving her—on this occasion went far to make me disgusted with the whole affair into which I had been drawn. It might have been supposed that she would show gratitude; I think that even a little admiration and
