Send you the shirt. CHAPTER XVII. He was not there. One thing—he could be thankful for that—the peak of his misfortunes had been reached; the world might come to an end now and not matter in the least. It suited him to dampen the spirits of any who sought to impose upon him, as these relics of the loathed family of Valade seemed like to do. Monsieur could rely upon his special attention, and for the cooking—well, he had his customers, who came from their homes to him year after year. Aside from some loose coin and a trunk key, there was nothing in the pockets: no mail, no letter of credit, not even a tailor's label.
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