"Yes," answered Turner. "A third person. I have been watching the thing, Dick, and am not such a fat old fool as you take me for. It was neither Miste nor Devar who cashed that draft. If you catch Miste you will probably catch some one else, too, some knight-errant of finance, or I am much mistaken."
At this moment the train moved on, and my friend composed his person for a sleep which lasted until we reached Saxmundham.
"I suppose," said my companion, waking up there, "that Mademoiselle of the _beaux yeux_ is to marry Alphonse when the fortune is recovered?"
"I suppose so," answered I, and John Turner closed his eyes again with a queer look.
In the station enclosure at Lowestoft we found Alphonse Giraud enjoying himself immensely on the high seat of a dog-cart, controlling, with many French exclamations, and a partial success, the movements of a cob which had taken a fancy to progress backwards round and round the yard.
"It is," he explained, with a jerky salutation of the whip, "the Sunday-school treat departing for Yarmouth. They marched in here with a brass band--too much--Whoa! _le petit_, whoa!--too much for our feelings. There--_bonjour_, Monsieur Turner--how goes it? There--now we stand still.
"Not for long," said Turner, doubtfully; "and I never get in or out of anything when it is in motion."
With the assistance of sundry idle persons we held the horse still enough for my friend to take his seat beside Alphonse, while I and the luggage found place behind them. We dashed out of the gate at a speed and risk which gave obvious satisfaction to our driver, and our progress up the narrow High Street was a series of hairbreadth escapes.
"It is a pleasure," said Alphonse, airily, as we passed the lighthouse and the cob settled down into a steady trot, "to drive such a horse as this."
"No doubt," said Turner; "but next time I take a cab."
We arrived at the Manor House in time for luncheon, and were received by the ladies at the door. Lucille, I remember, looked grave, but it appeared that the Vicomtesse was in good spirits.
"Then the news is true," she cried, before we had descended from our high places.
"Yes, Madame, for a wonder good news is true," answered Turner, and he stood bareheaded, after the manner of his adopted country, while he shook hands.
