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"Yes, but I was given to understand that Madame de Lastaola was to leave Paris either yesterday or this morning."

It was my turn to stare dumbly before I could manage to ask: "For Tolosa?" in a very knowing tone.

Whether it was the droop of his head, play of light, or some other subtle cause, his nose seemed to have grown perceptibly longer.

"That, Senor, is the place where the news has got to be conveyed without undue delay," he said in an agitated wheeze. "I could, of course, telegraph to our agent in Bayonne who would find a messenger. But I don't like, I don't like!  The Alphonsists have agents, too, who hang about the telegraph offices.  It's no use letting the enemy get that news."

He was obviously very confused, unhappy, and trying to think of two different things at once.

"Sit down, Don George, sit down." He absolutely forced a cigar on me. "I am extremely distressed. That--I mean Dona Rita is undoubtedly on her way to Tolosa.  This is very frightful."

I must say, however, that there was in the man some sense of duty. He mastered his private fears. After some cogitation he murmured: "There is another way of getting the news to Headquarters. Suppose you write me a formal letter just stating the facts, the unfortunate facts, which I will be able to forward.  There is an agent of ours, a fellow I have been employing for purchasing supplies, a perfectly honest man.  He is coming here from the north by the ten o'clock train with some papers for me of a confidential nature.  I was rather embarrassed about it.  It wouldn't do for him to get into any sort of trouble.  He