“Sir,” I replied, “when I meet a compatriot—”
“Who is a Parisian—”
“And consequently a Frenchman twice over,” I added, “I am only too glad to shake hands with him! And so, Monsieur Caterna—”
“You know my name?”
“As you know mine, I am sure.”
“Of course, Monsieur Claudius Bombarnac, correspondent of the Twentieth Century.”
“At your service, believe me.”
“A thousand thanks, Monsieur Bombarnac, and even ten thousand, as they say in China, whither Madame Caterna and I are bound.”
“To appear at Shanghai in the French troupe at the residency as—”
“You know all that, then?”