“Impossible. I knew none of them.”
“But Mademoiselle Ward knows that you are here. Without doubt.”
“Why do you say so?”
“Because she has inquired for you.”
“So!” I rose at once and went toward the door. “Why didn’t you tell me at once?”
“But surely,” he remonstrated, ignoring my question, “monsieur will make some change of attire?”
“Change of attire?” I echoed.
“Eh, the poor old coat all hunched at the shoulders and spotted with paint!”
“Why shouldn’t it be?” I hissed, thoroughly irritated. “Do you take me for a racing marquis?”
“But monsieur has a coat much more as a coat ought to be. And Jean Ferret says—”