Rateau's branded arm went up to his lanky hair and he scratched his head dubiously.
"Aye," he nodded, obviously uncomprehending, "perhaps! But I'd like to taste some of that shame!"
Chauvelin shrugged his shoulders and turned on his heel. The thunder sounded a little more distant and the rain less violent for the moment, and he strode toward the door.
"The children run after me now," Rateau continued dolefully. "In my quartier, the concierge turned me out of my lodging. They keep asking me what I have done to be branded like a convict."
Chauvelin laughed.
"Tell them you've been punished for serving the English spy," he said.
"The Englishman paid me well, and I am very poor," Rateau retorted meekly. "I could serve the State now . . . if it would pay me well."
"Indeed? How?"
"By telling you something, citizen, which you would like to know."
"What is it?"