"All!" said he, "we'd be four thousand the richer to-day if you had never discovered that the Comte de Faugère had a liking for the woods."
"Say, rather, sir, if one of his gang had not played it off on me that he was a detective."
"Ye're right there. To give it out that he was an English officer, too! 'Twas a daring business altogether—for the French police were watching the house the very night when the woman stayed for a last deal. The count must have gone the day before. She left in the middle of the night, after I'd won the money for her. 'Tis the Lord only knows how she got away."
"I can tell you, sir, for I saw her in the woods one day disguised as a man. That's how she cheated them."
"I don't doubt it," said he; "they had sentinels everywhere, and used flags by day and lanterns by night for the danger signals. Sure, she was a wonderful woman—to rent a house like that and to play the part."
"Any way," said I, "her man nearly did for me."
"Indeed and he did. There was not much life in you when the priest found you, and carried you to the village."
"And not much money, either."
"They'd not left you sixpence for a cab-fare," cried he.
