Here was the nocturnal marauder of Doom, or the very devil was in it!
The Chamberlain laughed, but still betrayed a little confusion: Mrs. Petullo wondered at the anger of his eyes, and a moment later launched upon an abstracted minuet with Montaiglon.
CHAPTER XXVII — THE DUEL ON THE SANDS
The Chamberlain stood near the door with his hand in the bosom of his coat, fingering the flageolet that was his constant companion even in the oddest circumstances, and Count Victor went up to him, the button concealed in his palm.
“Well, you are for going?” said Simon, more like one who puts a question than states a position, for some hours of Count Victor's studied contempt created misgivings.
“Il y a terme à tout! And possibly monsieur will do me the honour to accompany me so far as the avenue?”
“Sir!” said the Chamberlain.
“I have known men whose reputations were mainly a matter of clothes. Monsieur is the first I have met whose character hung upon a single button. Permit me to return your button with a million regards.”
He held the silver lozenge out upon his open hand.