"You will not, sir," said Riche in a rage.
"Who are you, sir, that you speak to me in this way, and forbid me to obey my orders?"
"I am Dr. Riche, Ancien Interne at the Hotel Dieu, and surgeon to the Charité at Algiers," he said, handing over his card.
Dr. Roux looked him up and down from head to foot, and adjusting his pince-nez with deliberation took the card and read it carefully. Again he paused and looked at Riche, but observing the terrible earnestness of his expression, he restrained his feelings. "Dr. Riche," he exclaimed with mingled hesitation and astonishment, "forgive me, I apologise for my rudeness, I had no idea I was addressing a colleague so celebrated," and he offered his hand which Riche shook heartily.
"I also agree with my friend and colleague," said Villebois. "We must desist at once and arrange to await events."
Roux gave a slight grunt of disappointment, but yielding to the inevitable, packed up his instruments, and putting on his coat, bowed profoundly, and prepared to depart.
"No, Dr. Roux, we cannot allow you to go without partaking of our hospitality," said Villebois, bowing. "Let us go to the library, and break a bottle of wine between us."
The three doctors were soon chatting round the table in the library the very best of friends.
"See, doctor, what I have just found in another envelope," said Riche, handing Roux a little love-poem which Delapine had evidently written to Renée about the same time as the letter.
"Let me read it to you," said Riche, "it's a gentle rhyme of four verses such as a lover might write to his lady-love. It has, however, a disguised prophetic meaning which shows clearly that Delapine felt convinced that his 'death' would only be apparent, and that he would eventually return to life.