"Half-past eight," said he; "at this hour Monseigneur the Regent returns to St. Germains and asks for Dubois; as Dubois is not there, he rubs his hands and prepares for some folly. Rub your hands, Philippe d'Orleans, and amuse yourself at your pleasure, for the danger is not at Paris, but here. We shall see if you will laugh at my secret police this time. Ah! here is our man."
At this moment Tapin introduced Owen.
"Here is the person you wished to see," said he.
Owen remained standing, trembling, near the door, while Dubois wrapped himself in a large cloak, which left only the upper part of his face visible to him on whom he fixed his cat-like eyes.
"Approach, my friend," said Dubois.
In spite of the cordiality of this invitation, it was given in so harsh a voice that Owen would have preferred being at a greater distance from this man, who looked at him so strangely.
"Well, fellow," said Dubois, seeing that he did not stir, "did you not hear me?"
"Yes, monseigneur," said Owen.
"Then why do you not obey?"
"I did not know you spoke to me."