"Please to say to him that it is Bahuchet, the solicitor's clerk, the young man of the little wine shop; and I will wager that your master will receive me instantly."
The concierge ushered him into a room in the right wing, and went to the wing at the rear, where Léodgard then was.
After waiting a long while, the concierge returned and said to the young clerk:
"Monsieur le comte will come; wait."
"Why, in heaven's name, don't you take me to him? It seems to me that that would be much simpler than to make him put himself out to come here."
"Monsieur le comte never receives anybody in the wing that he occupies."
"Wolf's head! what mystery! what ceremony!" said Bahuchet to himself, when he was alone. "If this Seigneur Léodgard were proscribed, condemned to death, if the police had orders to pounce upon him, he could not conceal himself more completely from observation!"
The count's appearance put an end abruptly to the little clerk's conjectures.
"What brings you here? what do you want of me?" demanded Léodgard, roughly.
"I have come, monsieur le comte, because I was told to come. I have come from the marchioness."