"Where is it?" cried Gaston.
"Ask our host. When I came in he held it in his hands."
"Give it to me," cried Gaston, rushing into the common room.
"What does monsieur want?" asked Tapin, with his usual politeness.
"My letter."
"What letter?"
"The letter you received for me."
"Pardon, monsieur; I forgot it."
And he gave Gaston the letter.
"Poor imbecile!" said the false La Jonquiere, "and these idiots think of conspiring. It is like D'Harmental; they think they can attend to love and politics at the same time. Triple fools; if they were to go at once to La Fillon's for the former, the latter would not be so likely to bring them to the Place de Greve."