René placed the manuscript beneath the sofa pillow and said:
"How did the French gentleman learn that I am here? What is his name?"
The man handed him a card bearing these words: The Count de Keller.
"Who may this be?" murmured René to himself.
Then aloud:
"Bid him enter."
When alone, the Marquis concealed the manuscript in his traveling bag which also contained the casket or box. He awaited the visitor, remembering Naundorff's words: You have trusted men; in future beware of them. You have been frank; in future be astute and reticent.
Then an elegantly appareled gentleman entered in a coat of violet cloth ornamented with gold buttons and a close-fitting pair of grey cashmere breeches. The many folds in his white cravat made him hold his head high indeed. On his finely shaped thigh dangled resplendently the chain and ornaments of the Sullivan, the latest fad. His appearance was prepossessing and he recalled vividly the famous Chateaubriand type.
"I arrived here but this morning, Marquis de Brezé, and permit me to confide to you that I find the hotel execrable," and the Count inclined his body gracefully before René. "I cannot forgive my friend, Captain MacGreagor for recommending such a hole to me. When my valet complained of the service, he was told that another French gentleman in the hotel was well satisfied with the accommodations. I asked your name and, as it is one so well known, I hastened to comply with the pleasing duty of compatriots when in foreign parts. I regret to learn that you have been wounded."
René, motioning his visitor to a seat, replied with reserve: