"Just look at the costume; it's a Spaniard of the time of Louis XIII."
"It's a masker."
"He isn't masked."
"It's a masker, all the same; that's what they call people disguised."
"It's a thief who broke into the lodge while the concierge was away."
"He's taken his cap already."
"Answer; what are you doing here, merry-andrew?"
Chamoureau decided to rise; he tossed the concierge's cap aside, resumed his own cap with the plumes, and replied, affecting a dignified air:
"In the first place, messieurs and mesdames, I am not a thief and you will soon have proof that I am not. I am waiting for the concierge to return; he has gone to get me a cab, for you will understand that I could not go home on foot in this disguise."
"But you don't belong in the house. Why did you come here?"