“Do you know, De Beauvais,” said I, affecting as much of coolness as I could, “do you know, I half regret having told you this. The manner in which I heard this conversation—though, as you will see, quite involuntary on my part—should have prevented my ever having repeated it; and now the only reparation I can make is to wait on my colonel, explain the whole circumstance, and ask his advice.”
“In plain words, to make public what at present is only confided to a friend. Well, you think the phrase too strong for one you have seen but twice,—the first time not exactly on terms such as warrant the phrase. But come, if you can't trust me, I 'll see if I can't trust you.”
He drew at these words a roll of paper from his pocket, and was proceeding to open it on the table when a violent knocking was heard at my door.
“What 's that? who can it be?” said he, starting up, and growing pale as death.
The look of terror in his face appalled me; and I stood, not able to reply, or even move towards the door, when the knocking was repeated much louder, and I heard my name called out. Pointing to a closet which led from the room, and without speaking a word, I walked forward and unlocked the door. A tall man, wrapped in a blue cloak, and wearing a cocked hat covered with oilskin, stood before me, accompanied by a sergeant of my troop.
“This is the sous-lieutenant, sir,” said the sergeant, touching his cap.
“That will do,” replied the other; “you may leave us now.” Then turning to me he added, “May I have the favor of a few minutes' conversation with you, Mr. Burke? I am Monsieur Gisquet, chef de police of the department.”
A trembling ran through me at the words, and I stammered out something scarce audible in reply. Monsieur Gisquet followed me as I led the way into my room, which already had been deserted by De Beauvais; and casting a quick glance around, he leisurely took off his hat and cloak and drew a chair towards the table.
“Are we alone, sir?” said he, in a measured tone of voice, while his eye fell with a peculiar meaning on a chair which stood opposite to mine, on the opposite side of the stove.
“I had a friend with me when you knocked,” I muttered, in a broken and uncertain accent; “but perhaps—”