With that I left him, Sir, to walk away or stay as he pleased. As for me, I went quickly down the street. I felt that the situation was absolutely perfect; to have spoken another word might have spoilt it. Moreover, there was no knowing how soon the proprietor of that humble hostelry would begin to have doubts as to the identity of the private secretary of M. le Duc d’Otrante. So I was best out of the way.
3.
The very next day M. le Marquis de Firmin-Latour called upon me at my office in the Rue Daunou. Theodore let him in, and the first thing that struck me about him was his curt, haughty manner and the look of disdain wherewith he regarded the humble appointments of my business premises. He himself was magnificently dressed, I may tell you. His bottle-green coat was of the finest cloth and the most perfect cut I had ever seen. His kerseymere pantaloons fitted him without a wrinkle. He wore gloves, he carried a muff of priceless zibeline, and in his cravat there was a diamond the size of a broad bean.
He also carried a malacca cane, which he deposited upon my desk, and a gold-rimmed spy-glass which, with a gesture of supreme affectation, he raised to his eye.
“Now, M. Hector Ratichon,” he said abruptly, “perhaps you will be good enough to explain.”
I had risen when he entered. But now I sat down again and coolly pointed to the best chair in the room.
“Will you give yourself the trouble to sit down, M. le Marquis?” I riposted blandly.
He called me names—rude names! but I took no notice of that . . . and he sat down.
“Now!” he said once more.
“What is it you desire to know, M. le Marquis?” I queried.