"It isn't a compliment, mademoiselle," he said a trifle ironically. "It's the natural homage one pays to beauty."
He went off, taking Raoul Davernoie with him.
"Saint-Quentin," murmured Dorothy, looking after them. "Keep an eye on that gentleman."
"Why?"
"He's the man in the blouse who nearly brought you down this morning."
Saint-Quentin staggered as if he had received the charge of shot.
"Are you sure?"
"Very nearly. He has the same way of walking, dragging his right leg a little."
He muttered:
"He has recognized me!"