“Put another plate, Anthony, and breakfast with us.”
“Oh, sir,” protested the old servant,—“sir”—
“Sit down,” repeated the baron: “if you eat after us, you will make us lose time, and an old servant like you is a member of the family.”
Anthony obeyed, quite overcome, but blushing with delight at the honor that was done him; for the Baron de Chandore did not usually distinguish himself to familiarity. When the ham and eggs of the housekeeper had been disposed of, M. Folgat said,—
“Now let us go back to business. Keep cool, my dear Anthony, and remember, that, unless we get the court to say that there is no case, your answers may become the basis of our defence. What were M. de Boiscoran’s habits when he was here?”
“When he was here, sir, he had, so to say, no habits. We came here very rarely, and only for a short time.”
“Never mind: what was he doing here?”
“He used to rise late; he walked about a good deal; he sometimes went out hunting; he sketched; he read, for master is a great reader, and is as fond of his books as the marquis, his father, is of his porcelains.”
“Who came here to see him?”
“M. Galpin most frequently, Dr. Seignebos, the priest from Brechy, M. Seneschal, M. Daubigeon.”