"Well?"
"Well, your horse, the one you always ride,--as that pretty little wench who took my bridle told me,--your favorite horse, which I saw in the stable when I went to make sure that my own Bucephalus had his provender, was covered with mud to the withers. Now, some one had ridden that horse, and you would never have lent him to any one for whom you did not feel some special consideration."
"Good! Now another question."
"Certainly; I am here to answer questions."
"What makes you think that Monsieur de Bonneville's companion is the august personage you named just now?"
"Partly because she is evidently made to pass first, before others, and the stones are moved out of her way."
"Can you tell by a mere footprint whether the person who made it is fair or dark?"
"No; but I can find it out in another way."
"How? This shall be my last question; and if you answer it--"
"If I answer it, what?"