“Marius?” cried the Marquis, and he started round with a frown.
“Marius?” breathed Garnache, and then, realizing that the assassins had followed so close upon his heels, he put all thoughts from his mind other than that of the immediate business. He had, himself, a score to settle with them. The time was now. He swung round on his heel, and before he knew what he had said the words were out:
“Bring them up, Monsieur l’Hote.”
Florimond looked at him in surprise.
“Oh, by all means, if monsieur wishes it,” said he, with a fine irony.
Garnache looked at him, then back at the hesitating host.
“You have heard,” said he coolly. “Bring them up.”
“Bien, monsieur,” replied the host, withdrawing and closing the door after him.
“Your interference in my affairs grows really droll, monsieur,” said the Marquis tartly.
“When you shall have learned to what purpose I am interfering, you’ll find it, possibly, not quite so droll,” was the answer, no less tart. “We have but a moment, monsieur. Listen while I tell you the nature of their errand.”