"I have known him from a boy; no one knows him better than I."
"How very interesting!" he said; and I could not make out whether his tone was earnest or satirical, for his face betrayed nothing. "I have heard of Mr. Atherton from a friend of mine in Paris."
"Ah! that little enthusiastic Gireaud, I dare say," replied I; for I knew all Hugh's friends, and he was the only one I could think of as being in Paris.
"Yes, from Gireaud;" and he was turning away.
"How is he?" I asked, meaning Gireaud; "have you seen him lately?"
"No, not lately--that is, three or four months back."
This was strange; it was only a month since the Frenchman had left England, only three months since we had first made his acquaintance, and he had been in England all the time. I felt suspicious; I often did towards my sister's friends, by reason of divers small sums borrowed in past times by them from me, and kept in memoriam I suppose. I thought I would pursue the inquiry.
"Did you know M. Gireaud when he was in England?"
"No abroad--in Paris;" and he changed color and shifted uneasily on his feet.
"Did he succeed in tracing out the evidence in that celebrated cause he was conducting?" I continued pertinaciously.