Hyde, addressing himself to Mr. Hobson, began his story in the most perfect French he could command. He spoke the language well, and had no reason to fear that his accent would betray him.
"The patron speaks no French," put in the old woman. "You ought to know that. Tell me, and I will interpret."
Mr. Hobson played his part closely, that was clear. A Frenchman by birth, he could hardly be ignorant of or have forgotten his own tongue.
Hyde, following these instructions, told his story in the briefest words. How Valetta Joe had been seized, his shop ransacked, and many compromising papers brought to light.
"Ask him how he knows this," said Mr. Hobson quietly.
"My brother has written to me from the Crimea. He was in the camp when the baker was seized."
"What is his brother's name?"
"Eugène Chabot, of the 39th Algerian battalion."
This was a name given in the papers seized.
"Was it he who gave this address? How did the fellow come here? Ask him that."