"I can't," he muttered sulkily. "I haven't got the money. I've only got twenty-four francs. And there'll be my bill at the Shevvle Daw."
"The Cheval d'Or!" echoed the manager. "If you're at the Cheval d'Or, what the deuce have you come lunching here for?"
"To meet some friends," said the Grey One brazenly. "They're staying in the hotel."
The manager was perturbed.
"What friends?" he asked.
"Two ladies," the Grey One replied.
Within the next minute the two ladies' names would have been asked for, and, no doubt, the hard-pressed brute would have given mine. I pulled the door open wide, and stepped into the hall.
"I can't help hearing," I said. "You talk so loud. What ladies do you mean?"
He jumped. Then he stood stark, as if he had been struck by lightning.
"Perhaps Madame knows something of this affair," the manager began in French.