That gentleman, not expecting such an order, hesitated.
"Yes, sur."
"Michel," said the stranger, "your master speaks to you."
"Sure I heard him, sur."
Michel left the room and carefully closed the door after him; but Flint, who knew his inquiring proclivities, opened it suddenly, and found Michel on all fours with his ear to the key-hole. The door was opened so unexpectedly that the listener did not discover the fact for the space of ten seconds. When he looked up and beheld his master, the intense expression of his face was superbly ludicrous. To say that he shot to the subterranean regions of the kitchen like a flash of lightning, does not border on fiction.
The man laughed—it was a low, peculiar laugh, sadder than some men's tears.
"Flint!"
"Well."
"Are you glad to see me?" and the man repeated his laugh.
"No: you are a devil!"