"He's sure not to be at home," I remarked.
Bertie's face fell; but he brightened again. "Anyhow you admit you know him."
"One has all sorts of acquaintances," I drawled, with a shrug of my shoulders.
"You're a sly little kitten—if you're not a cat. You heard me say I thought of calling at the château."
"And you heard me say the owner wasn't at home."
"You seem well acquainted with his movements."
"I happened to see him, on his way south, at Avignon, some days ago."
"Did he see you?"
"Isn't that my affair—and his?"
"By Jove—you've got good cheek, to talk like this to your mistress's stepson! But maybe you think you won't have difficulty in finding a place that pays you better—what?"