“That’s because I haven’t recovered yet, monsieur.”
“Recovered from what?”
“And Bichette declares that he’s taken you in, too.”
Dalville lost patience, and glanced at Bertrand, who was pacing the floor, muttering:
“If I had a squad of men like him to drill, I’d begin by fastening ‘em to horses’ tails and driving the horses at a gallop.”
Monin took out his snuff-box, stuffed his nostrils, and continued:
“I have come to you, Monsieur Dalville, to see if by chance you have discovered which way he has gone.”
“Who on earth do you mean, Monsieur Monin? For heaven’s sake, explain yourself more fully! You have been talking to me for an hour, and I haven’t understood a word that you’ve said. What is it that someone has been doing to you?”
“Someone has robbed me, monsieur!”
“Robbed you?”