"Indeed? Indeed?" said Theophrastus, eyeing him strangely. "So you're going to the Porkers too?"
"There or elsewhere: it's all the same to me," said Signor Petito; and he laughed a most amiable laugh.
They walked along side by side in silence for a while, till Signor Petito mustered up his courage to ask a question:
"And how are you getting on with your treasures, M. Longuet?" he said.
Theophrastus turned on him with a savage air, and cried, "What the deuce has it got to do with you?"
"Don't you remember bringing, a little while ago, for my opinion on the handwriting—"
"I remember quite well! But you—you'd jolly well better forget!" interrupted Theophrastus in a tone of dry menace; and he opened his green umbrella.
Signor Petito, entirely unabashed, took shelter under it, saying amiably, "Oh, I didn't ask the question to annoy you, M. Longuet."
They had reached the corner of Martyrs' Street in the Trudaine Avenue; and they turned down it, Theophrastus glowering.
Then he said, "I've an appointment at the Sucking-Pig tavern next to the Porkers' chapel, and here we are, Signor Petito."