The door of the inn opened. Rouletabille was on his feet so suddenly that one might have thought he had received an electric shock.
“Mr. Arthur Rance!” he cried.
Mr. Arthur Rance stood before us calmly bowing.
Chapter XX.
An Act of Mademoiselle Stangerson
“You remember me, Monsieur?” asked Rouletabille.
“Perfectly!” replied Arthur Rance. “I recognise you as the lad at the bar. [The face of Rouletabille crimsoned at being called a “lad.”] I want to shake hands with you. You are a bright little fellow.”
The American extended his hand and Rouletabille, relaxing his frown, shook it and introduced Mr. Arthur Rance to me. He invited him to share our meal.
“No thanks. I breakfasted with Monsieur Stangerson.”
Arthur Rance spoke French perfectly,—almost without an accent.
“I did not expect to have the pleasure of seeing you again, Monsieur. I thought you were to have left France the day after the reception at the Élysée.”