I nodded,
“We ain' got no Orléanistes, no Bonapartistes' ici, in this gouvernement, n'est-ce pas?”
I intimated that I had never met any.
“Now,” he proceeded, with an increased bitterness in his tone and his hard smile, “I use' thing you one good frien' to me, mais, you been makin' fool of me all that time!”
“You don't think any such thing,” I said.
“You know,” he went on, “who bounce our Fidèle?”
“No.”
Sorel received my reply with a low, incredulous laugh. Then he laid his hat down on the floor, drew his chair closer, held out his finger, and, with the air of one who shows another that he knows his secret he demanded:—
“Qu'est-ce que c'est qu'un 'Boss'?”
I sat silent for a moment, looking at him, not knowing just what to say.