"Vigo didn't know what had become of you, monsieur," Chariot volunteered. "The old man wasn't in the best of tempers last night, after Lucas got away and you gave us the slip, too. He called us all blockheads and cursed idiots. Things were lively for a time, nom d'un chien!"
"Eh bien, I am found," M. Étienne returned. "In time we'll get Lucas, too. Is Monsieur back?"
"No, M. Étienne, not yet."
I think he was half sorry, half glad.
"Where's Vigo?" he demanded.
"Somewhere about. I'll find him for monsieur."
"No, stay at your post. I'll find him."
He went straight across the court and in at the door he had sworn never again to darken. Humility and repentance might have brought him there, but it was the hand of mademoiselle drew him over the threshold without a falter.
Alone in the hall was my little friend Marcel, throwing dice against himself to while the time away. He sprang up at sight of us, agleam with excitement.
"Well, Marcel," my master said, "and where is M. l'Écuyer?"