'Will Brother Simard come forward?' asked the president.
My former subordinate removed his eyes from me, slowly rose from his chair, and shuffled up to the president's table.
'Brother Ducharme,' said that official to me in a quiet tone, 'I introduce you to Brother Simard, whom you are commissioned to see into a place of safety when he has dispersed the procession.'
Simard turned his fishy goggle eyes upon me, and a grin disclosed wolf-like teeth. He held out his hand, which, rising to my feet, I took. He gave me a flabby grasp, and all the time his inquiring eyes travelled over me.
'You don't look up to much,' he said. 'What are you?'
'I am a teacher of the French language in London.'
'Umph!' growled Simard, evidently in no wise prepossessed by my appearance. 'I thought you weren't much of a fighter. The gendarmes will make short work of this fellow,' he growled to the chairman.
'Brother Ducharme is vouched for by the whole English circle,' replied the president firmly.
'Oh, the English! I think very little of them. Still, it doesn't matter,' and with a shrug of the shoulders he shuffled to his seat again, leaving me standing there in a very embarrassed state of mind; my brain in a whirl. That the man was present with his own face was bewildering enough, but that he should be here under his own name was simply astounding. I scarcely heard what the president said. It seemed to the effect that Simard would take me to his own room, where we might talk over our plans. And now Simard rose again from his chair, and said to the president that if nothing more were wanted of him, we should go. Accordingly we left the place of meeting together. I watched my comrade narrowly. There was now a trembling eagerness in his action, and without a word he hurried me to the nearest café, where we sat down before a little iron table on the pavement.
'Garçon!' he shouted harshly, 'bring me four absinthes. What will you drink, Ducharme?',