"Madame is in the
country," replied the concierge; "she will not return before this
evening. If monsieur will leave his card "
"Oh! that's quite unnecessary. I shall be passing again."
This, too, was in obedience to the instructions of M. de Coralth,
who had advised him not to send in his name, but to gain admission
into Madame d'Argeles's presence as speedily as possible, without
giving her time to prepare herself for the interview; and Wilkie
had ultimately decided that these precautions might not prove as
superfluous as he had at first supposed. But this first mishap
annoyed him extremely. What should he do? how should he kill time
till the evening? A cab was passing. He hired it for a drive to
the Bois, whence he returned to the boulevards, played a game of
billiards with one of the co-proprietors of Pompier de Nanterre,
and finally dined at the Cafe Riche, devoting as much time as
possible to the operation. He was finishing his coffee when the
clock struck eight. He caught up his hat, drew on his gloves, and
hastened to the Hotel d'Argeles again.
"Madame has not yet returned," said the concierge, who knew that
his mistress had only just risen from her bed, "but I don't think
it will be long. And if monsieur wishes--"
"No," replied M. Wilkie brusquely, and he was going off in a
furious passion, when, on crossing the street, he chanced to turn
his head and notice that the reception rooms were brilliantly
lighted up.
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