Madame eyed him for a moment, then leaned forward impressively.
"Understand, m'sieu, one does not talk lightly of Pierre to those who know him not. So, enough. I have already said too much. Au'voir, messieurs. You are welcome always, and forget not what I have said of Giraud."
She gave them a guarded smile and left the room. Ben watched her go without a word, then, beckoning to Dare to follow, made for the street.
"Well, we didn't get much forrarder there," he exclaimed ruefully, as he stood in the street outside.
"You went about it in the wrong way," said Dare impatiently. "If you hadn't asked her who Pierre was, she would have been telling you all about him in a few minutes."
"Aye, I reckon that's so," agreed Ben, abashed. "What a dunderhead I be! Why didn't you stop me, Mr. Dare?"
"I didn't have a chance. Madame, as you've said, is a wise old lady," he added. "She thought it was queer your not knowing Pierre if you were a smuggler. Pierre, who took no less than a thousand cases of brandy from her in two years!"
"Aye, I reckon it seemed funny," said Ben humbly. "But anyhow, we got somethin' to go by, we can keep a look-out for that feller Pierre."
"That's so, of course. He must be a smuggler in a pretty big way, don't you think?"
"There's no tellin', but it seems so. A thousand of brandy from one cellar in two years is not bad work, not to mention what he might have had from Giraud."