"My name. Ah, it is of small consequence. Jules de Froilette, at your service. It is unknown to you?"
"I think so, but your face seems familiar," said Ellerey, as they went on together.
"Ah, yes. I go to Court sometimes."
"And I but seldom, monsieur."
"Then you may have seen me in the streets of Sturatzberg. I know the city well, and have nothing to hide. I have interests in this country, let us say, in timber; it is the answer I give when I am questioned, for no one respects a lazy man. A voluntary exile from my country, I have no quarrel with France, nor she with me. In these days men are become cosmopolitan, is it not so?"
"It looks like it in Sturatzberg," Ellerey replied.
"Monsieur is also an exile, and has no quarrel with his motherland?"
"At least I do not speak of it, Monsieur De Froilette."
"Pardon me, I am not inquisitive. You crave for excitement, so come to Sturatzberg. The promise of adventure will ever attract men of spirit and—"
"And the failures at home," suggested Ellerey.