Paris had lost its charm for me. I hurried through the little business I
had to do, longed once more for my quiet room in the Dragon Volant, the
melancholy woods of the Chateau de la Carque, and the tumultuous and
thrilling influence of proximity to the object of my wild but wicked
romance.
I was delayed some time by my stockbroker. I had a very large sum, as I
told you, at my banker's, uninvested. I cared very little for a few
day's interest--very little for the entire sum, compared with the image
that occupied my thoughts, and beckoned me with a white arm, through the
dark, toward the spreading lime trees and chestnuts of the Chateau de la
Carque. But I had fixed this day to meet him, and was relieved when he
told me that I had better let it lie in my banker's hands for a few days
longer, as the funds would certainly fall immediately. This accident,
too, was not without its immediate bearing on my subsequent adventures.
When I reached the Dragon Volant, I found, in my sitting-room, a good
deal to my chagrin, my two guests, whom I had quite forgotten. I
inwardly cursed my own stupidity for having embarrassed myself with
their agreeable society. It could not be helped now, however, and a word
to the waiters put all things in train for dinner.
Tom Whistlewick was in great force; and he commenced almost immediately
with a very odd story.
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