"But what?"
"The wind has dispersed everything."
"Ah! that is a reason."
"You see."
"But, my friend, when the wind comes in it comes from outside, and it must have come in here if it made this destruction."
"Certainly, monsieur."
"Well, the wind in coming in here should have brought with it the clothes of others, instead of carrying mine out."
"So it should, and yet the contrary seems to have happened."
"But what is this? The wind must have walked in the mud, for here are footmarks on the floor." And Chicot pointed out the traces left by a muddy boot, on seeing which the host turned pale.
"Now, my friend," said Chicot, "I advise you to keep a watch over these winds which enter hotels, penetrate rooms by breaking doors, and retire, carrying away the clothes of the guests."