"It's about that, is it? Well, what about that?" He eyed the servant as
though to see whether the woman had given any information.
"I don't know. She didn't tell me. She's got a mind of her own. She's
even handsome, and she's well-dressed. All she said was: 'Tell m'sieu' I
want to see him. It's about the election-about Mr. Grier.'"
Barode Barouche's heart stopped. Something about Carnac Grier--something
about the election--and a woman! He kept a hand on himself. It must not
be seen that he was in any way moved.
"Is she English?"
"She's French, m'sieu'."
"You think I ought to see her, Gaspard?" said Barouche.
"Sure," was the confident reply. "I guess she's out against whoever's
against you."
"You never saw her before."
"Not to my sense."
"But I haven't finished my breakfast."
"Well, if it's anything important that'll help you, m'sieu'. It's like
whittling. If you can do things with your hands while you're talking and
thinking, it's a great help. You go on eating. I'll show her up!"
Barouche smiled maliciously. "Well, show her up, Gaspard."
The servant laughed. "Perhaps she'll show herself up after I show her
in," he said, and he went out hastily.
Presently the door opened again, and Gaspard stepped inside.
"A lady to see you, m'sieu'," he said.
Barouche rose from the table, but he did not hold out his hand.
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