"Oh, Jules!" said Phinuit, and laughed. "Jules is my younger brother. When he was demobilised his job was gone, back home, and I wished him on Mr. Monk as a chauffeur. We're always kidding each other like that."
Now what could be more reasonable? Duchemin wondered, and concluded that, if anything, it would be the truth. But he did not pretend to himself that he wasn't, quite illogically and with no provocation whatsoever, most vilely prejudiced against the lot of them.
"But you must know America, to speak the language as well as you do."
Duchemin nodded: "But very slightly, monsieur."
"I was wondering ... Somehow I can't get it out of my head I've seen you somewhere before to-day."
"It is quite possible: when one moves about the world, one is visible--n'est-ce pas, monsieur? But my home," Duchemin added, "is Paris."
"I guess," said Phinuit in a tone of singular disappointment, "it must have been there I saw you."
Duchemin's bow signified that he was content to let it go at that. Moreover, Monk was signalling to Phinuit with his expressive eyebrows.
"What about the car, Phin?"
Examining his wrist watch, Phinuit drew near his employer. "Jules should not need more than half an hour now, monsieur."