“Ah,” I thought, “he is in his element. No regrets with him.”
Yet, after the first alertness of his entry, I observed, to my surprise, a certain air of sentiment about him, which, if it was not regret, was at least not martial keenness.
“You did your business yesterday?” I said.
“I did,” he replied, in a grave tone, and with something like a tender look in his eye. “I did some private business of an unforgettable and momentous nature, my dear d'Haricot. But not now; I shall not tell you now. To-night you shall know.”
Then, making a gesture as if to banish this mood, he threw himself into a chair, and, bending his brows in a keen look at me, said:
“But to business, my friend; to the business we are embarked upon.”
“Precisely,” I said. “I await it.”
“In this house where you dine are two entrances. Your guests come in by one, and you await them in the rooms I have set apart for you. In the rest of the house I operate.”
“And what do you do?”
“I gather our force. Men picked by my agents are to be invited to enter by the other door. I offer them refreshments. They follow, or, rather, precede me. In a lane at the back of the house is yet another door; against it is drawn up a great van, a van used for removing furniture, a van of colossal size. You see?”