“But certainly, mademoiselle, assure yourself that this gentleman is no other than I have told you.”
Thus enjoined, she took the letter; for a second her eyes met Garnache’s glittering gaze, and she shivered. Then she bent her glance to the writing, and studied it a moment, what time the man from Paris watched her closely.
Presently she handed it back to him.
“Thank you, monsieur,” was all she said.
“You are satisfied that it is in order, mademoiselle?” he inquired, and a note of mockery too subtle for her or the Seneschal ran through his question.
“I am quite satisfied.”
Garnache turned to Tressan. His eyes were smiling, but unpleasantly, and in his voice when he spoke there was something akin to the distant rumble that heralds an approaching storm.
“Mademoiselle,” said he, “has received an eccentric education.”
“Eh?” quoth Tressan, perplexed.
“I have heard tell, monsieur, of a people somewhere in the East who read and write from right to left; but never yet have I heard tell of any—particularly in France—so oddly schooled as to do their reading upside down.”