Frenchman, indeed, seemed to have exercised a silent protective
influence over the insignificant little Englishman, and without words or
gestures betrayed that he wished him well and would gladly have been of
service to him.

"And this sentence that he hurled at you after the bag?" asked John
Silence, smiling that peculiarly sympathetic smile that always melted
the prejudices of his patient, "were you unable to follow it exactly?"

"It was so quick and low and vehement," explained Vezin, in his small
voice, "that I missed practically the whole of it. I only caught the few
words at the very end, because he spoke them so clearly, and his face
was bent down out of the carriage window so near to mine."

"'_À cause du sommeil et à cause des chats'?_" repeated Dr. Silence, as
though half speaking to himself.

"That's it exactly," said Vezin; "which, I take it, means something like
'because of sleep and because of the cats,' doesn't it?"

"Certainly, that's how I should translate it," the doctor observed
shortly, evidently not wishing to interrupt more than necessary.

"And the rest of the sentence--all the first part I couldn't understand,
I mean--was a warning not to do something--not to stop in the town, or
at some particular place in the town, perhaps. That was the impression
it made on me."

Then, of course, the train rushed off, and left Vezin standing on the
platform alone and rather forlorn.