"And do you know that poor Albert——"
"Is dead; yes, I know it."
"Killed in a duel—and no one knows by whom! Isn't it a most extraordinary thing?"
Tobie pursed his lips, frowned, and gazed at the ceiling, murmuring:
"Ah! things happen sometimes in the world that one can't talk about; but people always end by discovering the truth! You surely can understand that the man who killed Albert is not likely to go about boasting of it, because he is probably much affected himself."
And Tobie took out his handkerchief and blew his nose several times, trying to make them think that he was weeping.
Mouillot and Balivan stared at each other in amazement; and the former muttered, under his breath:
"Nonsense! it isn't possible!"
Tobie was only at his fifth roll, when Monsieur Varinet arrived with Dupétrain. The first bowed very coolly to Pigeonnier, but that gentleman made haste to say to him:
"I owe you no end of apologies, monsieur, for remaining in your debt so long; but chance seemed to have determined to keep us apart; however, as I have found you at last, I will, with your permission, settle my account with you."