"Very good, sir," Scaufflaire answered; then scratching with his thumb-nail a stain in the wood of his table, he continued, with that careless air with which the Flemings so cleverly conceal their craft,—
"Good gracious! I have not thought of asking where you are going? Be kind enough to tell me, sir."
He had thought of nothing else since the beginning of the conversation, but somehow he had not dared to ask the question.
"Has your horse good legs?" said M. Madeleine.
"Yes, M. le Maire; you will hold it up a little in going down-hill. Are there many hills between here and the place you are going to?"
"Do not forget to be at my door at half-past four exactly," M. Madeleine answered, and went away.
The Fleming stood "like a fool," as he said himself a little while after. M. le Maire had been gone some two or three minutes when the door opened again; it was M. le Maire. He still wore the same impassive and preoccupied air.
"M. Scaufflaire," he said, "at how much do you value the tilbury and horse you are going to let me, one with the other?"
"Do you wish to buy them of me, sir?"
"No, but I should like to guarantee them against any accident, and when I come back you can return me the amount. What is the estimated value?"