"Thank you," he said. And after an instant, "I thought I recognized you when I saw you on entering; now you have spoken, I am certain. Yet—"
Allard flushed from throat to temples, the color dying out again to leave even his lips white. But his reply was steadily given.
"There is no one here whom you know, monsieur, or who knows you. Even a prison has its courtesies. Turn your head away, and go past," he said.
"Would you have done so, finding a friend in such a strait?"
"I have no friends."
"Then why did you warn me against Dancla, my anarchistic secretary yonder?"
The question was unexpected, and left Allard momentarily disconcerted.
"Confess we knew each other very well five years ago," the visitor added gently, and paused to consider.
A few paces off the official stood stupidly enjoying the respite from exertion; placidly indifferent to an incomprehensible conversation inspired by a whim of the guest. The other three or four men were admiring the view from a window facing the river, and listening to their cicerone.
"I wish you would go away, monsieur," Allard said only, when he had recovered perfect command of himself.