Mayenne burst out laughing.
"It was not your night, Paul."
"No," said Lucas, shortly.
"And what then? It did not take you till three o'clock to be put out of the inn."
"No," Lucas answered; "I spoke to you of the varlet Pontou with whom Grammont had quarrelled. He had shut him up in a closet of the house in the Rue Coupejarrets. After the fight in the court we all went our ways, forgetting him. So I paid the house a visit; I was afraid some one else might find him and he might tell tales."
"And will he tell tales?"
"No," said Lucas, "he will tell no tales."
"How about your spy in the Hôtel St. Quentin?"
"Martin, the clerk? Oh, I warned him off before I left," Lucas said easily. "He will lie perdu till we want him again. And Grammont, you see, is dead too. There is no direct witness to the thing but the boy Broux."
"That's as good as to say there is none," Mayenne answered; "for I have the boy."