"Tell a trooper that the presence of Monsieur le Chevalier is requested here at once. Do not let the Chevalier see you," and the governor rose and laid down his pipe. "I will leave the room at your service, Monsieur."
"It is very kind of you." If the marquis was excited, or nervous, there was nothing on his face to indicate it.
Jehan and the governor made their exits through opposite doors; and Monsieur le Marquis sat alone. Several minutes passed. Once or twice the marquis turned his attention to his wine-soaked sleeve. Steps were heard in the corridor, but these died away in the distance. From time to time the old man's hand wandered to his throat, as if something was bothering him there. Time marked off a quarter of an hour. Then the door opened, and a man entered; a man bronzed of countenance, tall, and deep of chest. He wore the trapper's blouse and fringed leggings. From where he stood he could not see who sat at the table.
"Come toward the light, Monsieur," said the marquis, "where I may see you to better advantage." The marquis rose and stood with the fingers of his right band pressing lightly on the table.
At the sound of that voice, the Chevalier's heart leaped. He strode forward quickly, and, leaning across the table, stared into his father's eyes.
CHAPTER XVIII
THE MASTER OF IRONIES
So they stood for some moments, the one with eyes glaring, the other with quiet scrutiny.
"It appears to agree with you here," began the marquis. There was not the slightest tremor in his voice.