"_Jamais--jamais_," repeated the Baron.
"We don't like to leave you at the mercy of John Jacob Dumble," said
Ajax.
"You have right. I make not harmony wiz ze old man Dumble."
We went home sorely puzzled. Obviously the Baron had private reasons,
and strong ones, for keeping out of San Francisco and Del Monte. And
it was significant--as Ajax said to me--that a man who could talk so
admirably upon art, politics, and literature never spoke a word
concerning himself.
At Del Monte we happened to meet the French Consul. From him we
learned that there was a certain Rene, Comte de Bourgueil-Crotanoy.
The Chateau Bourgueil-Crotanoy in Morbihan is nearly as famous as
Chaumont or Chenonceau. The Consul possessed an _Almanack de
Gotha_. From this we gleaned two more facts. Rene, Comte de
Bourgueil, had two sons, and no kinsmen whatever.
"Your man," said the Consul discreetly, "must be somebody--you say he
is _somebody_--well, somebody else!"
"Another Wilkins," said I.
"Pooh!" ejaculated Ajax.
"No Frenchman of the Comte de Bourgueil's position and rank--he is a
godson, you know, of the Comte de Chambord--would come to California
without my knowledge," said the Consul.
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