God?" madame pursued. "Observe that, if Monsieur Duchemin had been
suffered to indulge his inclination in youth, we should all, I, my
daughter, my grand-daughter, even poor Georges d'Aubrac, would quite
probably be lying dead at the bottom of a cirque at Montpellier-le-Vieux."

Naturally the strangers required to know about that, and Madame de
Sévénié would talk, in fact doted on telling the tale of that great
adventure. Duchemin made a face of resignation, and heard himself
extolled as a paladin for strength, address and valour; the truth being
that he was not at all resigned and would infinitely liefer have been
left out of the limelight. The more he was represented as a person of
consequence, the less fair his chance to study these others at his
leisure, in the comfortable obscurity of their indifference.

Now the enigmatic eyes of Monk were boring into him, seeking to search
his soul, with a question in their stare which he could not read and,
quite likely, would have declined to answer if he could. Also the eyes
of Monsieur le Comte de Lorgnes were very round and constant to him.
And before Madame de Sévénié was finished, Phinuit strolled in and
heard enough to make him subject Duchemin to a not unfriendly, steady
and open inspection.

And when the trumpets had been flourished finally for Duchemin, and he
had dutifully assured madame that she was too generous and had
acknowledged congratulations on his exploit, Phinuit strolled over and
offered a hand.

"Good work," he said in English. "Seen you before, haven't I,
somewhere, Mr. Duchemin?"