The door opened by a few inches at this moment and a wrinkled pippin of a head was pushed in. A pair of little bright eyes surveyed the company and then the door was thrust wide open and M. Poizat stepped lightly in.
Harry Rames rose and shook hands with the little Frenchman. Colonel Challoner stroked his white moustache.
"You were present to-night?" said Rames. "What a difference, eh?"
"Yes, I was proud," M. Poizat returned. "But always I waited for some little word--some little word which did not come."
"One always forgets an important point and generally the most important. It is the experience of all speakers," said Rames. He turned to the table. "I must introduce to you M. Poizat, and if ever your voices are hoarse in Ludsey, please ask for Lungatine."
Rames drew a chair to the table, pressed M. Poizat into it, and filled for him a glass of champagne. The little man was delighted. He drank Captain Rames's health, he bowed to the company; and his hand was arrested in mid-air, holding the wine-glass by its stem. Colonel Challoner was gazing fixedly across the table at him. A look of trouble took all the merriment out of M. Poizat's face.
"I have seen you before, M. Poizat," said Colonel Challoner.
Cynthia began to think that the colonel had a mania for recognizing people.
"I am Mr. Poizat, an Englishman," the little confectioner answered hurriedly.
"Naturalized," said the colonel.