"You know me?" he asked.
The shadow of a smile flitted across Spencer's face.
"By many names, Monsieur Louis," he answered.
His visitor smiled. Debonair in dress and deportment, there seemed nothing to inspire alarm in the air of gentle concern with which he regarded the man whom he had come to visit. Yet Spencer cursed the languor which had kept him from recovering the revolver which an hour or more before had slipped from underneath his cushion.
"It saves trouble," Monsieur Louis said. "I come to you. Monsieur Spencer, as a friend."
"You alarm me," Spencer murmured.
Monsieur Louis shrugged his shoulders.
"You are pleased to be witty," he answered. "But indeed I am no such terrible person. It is permitted that I smoke?"
"Certainly," Spencer answered. "If you care for wine or liqueurs pray ring for my servant. I can assure you that it is not by my own will that you find me so indifferent a host."
"I thank you," Monsieur Louis answered. "I think that we will not ring the bell. It would be a pity to disturb an interview to which I have looked forward with so much pleasure."