of which transpired on the night of 22
June, is now drawing to a close. Force of circumstances compel me
to bring the two principal actors in that drama face to face, and I
wish that meeting to take place in your house, if you will be so
kind as to give me the use of it for this evening from nine o'clock
to eleven. It will be advisable to give your servant leave of
absence for the evening, and, perhaps, you will be so kind as to
leave the field open to the two adversaries. You will remember
that when I visited your house on the night of 22 June, I took
excellent care of your property. I feel that I would do you an
injustice if I should doubt, for one moment, your absolute
discretion in this affair. Your devoted,
"SALVATOR."
I was amused at the facetious tone of his letter and also at the
whimsical nature of his request. There was a charming display of
confidence and candor in his language, and nothing in the world could
have induced me to deceive him or repay his confidence with ingratitude.
I gave my servant a theatre ticket, and he left the house at eight
o'clock. A few minutes later, Daspry arrived. I showed him the letter.
"Well?" said he.
"Well, I have left the garden gate unlocked, so anyone can enter."
"And you--are you going away?"
"Not at all. I intend to stay right here."
"But he asks you to go---"
"But I am not going. I will be discreet, but I am resolved to see what
takes place."
"Ma foi!" exclaimed Daspry, laughing, "you are right, and I shall stay
with you. I shouldn't like to miss it."
We were interrupted by the sound of the door-bell.
"Here already?" said Daspry, "twenty minutes ahead of time! Incredible!"
I went to the door and ushered in the visitor. It was Madame Andermatt.
She was faint and nervous, and in a stammering voice, she ejaculated:
"My husband.... is coming.... he has an appointment.... they intend to
give him the letters...."
"How do you know?" I asked.
"By chance. A message came for my husband while we were at dinner. The
servant gave it to me by mistake. My husband grabbed it quickly, but he
was too late. I had read it."
"You read it?"
"Yes. It was something like this: `At nine o'clock this evening, be
at Boulevard Maillot with the papers connected with the affair. In
exchange, the letters.' So, after dinner, I hastened here."
"Unknown to your husband?"
"Yes."
"What do you think a
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