“Aha!”
“Does not that put you on the right track?”
“My tongue to the dogs if it does!”
“The fishwoman is——“
“Wait, it is—but, no—impossible——“
“I see that you will not name him—the fishwoman is the Duke of Aiguillon.”
At this utterance of the title, the disguised nobleman started and turned, as well as his companions. They made a movement to rise as men do when in presence of a leader: but the pretended gunsmith laid a finger on his lips and passed them by.
Gamain followed him, believing he was in a dream.
At the doorway he was jostled by a running man, who seemed to be pursued by a mob, shouting:
“Stop him—that is the Queen’s hairdresser! stop the hairdresser!”