When he saw the magistrate and the commonwealth attorney come up to the door, he threw away his cigar, came down quickly, and, bowing deeply, said to them with his most engaging smile,—
“Ah, gentlemen! What a pleasant surprise! My master will be delighted.”
With strangers, Anthony would not have allowed himself such familiarity, for he was very formal; but he had seen M. Daubigeon more than once at the chateau; and he knew the plans that had been discussed between M. Galpin and his master. Hence he was not a little amazed at the embarrassed stiffness of the two gentlemen, and at the tone of voice in which the magistrate asked him,—
“Has M. de Boiscoran gotten up yet?”
“Not yet,” he replied; “and I have orders not to wake him. He came home late last night, and wanted to make up this morning.”
Instinctively the magistrate and the attorney looked away, each fearing to meet the other’s eyes.
“Ah! M. de Boiscoran came home late last night?” repeated M. Galpin.
“Towards midnight, rather after midnight than before.”
“And when had he gone out?”
“He left here about eight.”