"Ah," murmured Robichon, "that is certainly a stumbling-block."
They sipped their apéritifs moodily. Many heads were turned towards the little table where they sat. "There are Quinquart and Robichon, how amusing they always are!" said passers-by, little guessing the anxiety at the laughter-makers' hearts.
"What's to be done?" sighed Quinquart at last.
Robichon shrugged his fat shoulders, with a frown.
Both were too absorbed to notice that, after a glance of recognition, one of the pedestrians had paused, and was still regarding them irresolutely. He was a tall, burly man, habited in rusty black, and the next moment, as if finding courage, he stepped forward and spoke:
"Gentlemen, I ask pardon for the liberty I take—impulse urges me to seek your professional advice! I am in a position to pay a moderate fee. Will you permit me to explain myself?"
"Monsieur," returned Robichon, "we are in deep consideration of our latest parts. We shall be pleased to give you our attention at some other time."
"Alas!" persisted the newcomer, "with me time presses. I, too, am considering my latest part—and it will be the only speaking part I have ever played, though I have been 'appearing' for twenty years."
"What? You have been a super for twenty years?" said Quinquart, with a grimace.
"No, monsieur," replied the stranger grimly. "I have been the public executioner; and I am going to lecture on the horrors of the post I have resigned."