"

De Casimir looked at D'Arragon, and hesitated for an instant. They both
remembered afterwards that moment of uncertainty.

"I have every reason to suppose it," replied De Casimir at length,
speaking in a low voice, as if fearful of being overheard.

Louis waited a moment, and glanced at Desiree, who, however, had
evidently nothing more to say.

"Then we will not trouble you farther," he said, going towards the door,
which he held open for Desiree to pass out. He was following her when De
Casimir called him back.

"Monsieur," cried the sick man, "Monsieur, one moment, if you can spare
it."

Louis came back. They looked at each other in silence while they heard
Desiree descend the stairs and speak in German to the innkeeper who had
been waiting there.

"I will be quite frank with you," said De Casimir, in that voice of
confidential friendliness which so rarely failed in its effect. "You
know that Madame Darragon has an elder sister, Mademoiselle Mathilde
Sebastian?"

"Yes."

De Casimir raised himself on his elbows again, with an effort, and gave
a short, half shamefaced laugh which was quite genuine. It was odd that
Mathilde and he, who had walked most circumspectly, should both have
been tripped up, as it were, by love.

"Bah!" he said, with a gesture dismissing the subject, "I cannot tell
you more. It is a woman's secret, Monsieur, not mine. Will you deliver a
letter for me in Dantzig, that is all I ask?"

"I will give it to Madame Darragon to give to Mademoiselle Mathilde, if
you like; I am not returning to Dantzig," replied Louis. But de Casimir
shook his head.

"I am afraid that will not do," he said doubtfully. "Between sisters,
you understand--"

And he was no doubt right; this man of quick perception. Is it not from
our nearest relative that our dearest secret is usually withheld?

"You cannot find another messenger?" asked De Casimir, and the anxiety
in his face was genuine enough.

"I can--if you wish it."

"Ah, Monsieur, I shall not forget it! I shall never forget it," said
the sick man quickly and eagerly. "The letter is there, beneath that
sabretasche. It is sealed and addressed."

Louis found the letter, and went towards the door, as he placed it in
his pocket.

"Monsieur," said De Casimir, stopping him again. "Your name, if I may
ask it, so that I may remember a countryman who has done me so great a
service."

"I am not a countryman; I am an Englishman," replied Louis. "My name