And oddly enough
I found myself responding as if to a trusted person. I smoked a little,
wondering whether Van Blarcom could catch the faint mutter of our
voices. Then I gave my orders in the same muffled tones:
"You will tell the servants that you wish to sleep here to-night, to
watch the car. You will stay here very quietly until it is nearly dawn.
Then you will creep to mademoiselle's door and whisper what I have told
you and say that I beg her to meet me before those others have awakened
at five o'clock in--"
Pondering a rendezvous, I hesitated. The room where I had dined, with
its stone floor, its beamed ceiling, and dark panels, came first to
my mind. I fancied, though, that some outdoor spot might be safer. I
remembered opportunely that a passage led past this room, and that at
its end I had glimpsed a little garden behind the inn.
"In the garden," I finished, and risked one straight look at him. "I can
trust you, Georges?"
The young man's throat seemed to close.
"_Monsieur le duc_ was my foster-brother, _Monsieur_," he whispered.
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