introduction.

"Monsieur Decresson and Monsieur Grisson," he said, stretching out his
hand, "permit me to make you acquainted with Monsieur le Capitaine
Rotherby, a retired officer in the English army, and brother of the
Earl of Welmington."

The two men bowed politely and held out their hands. They were both
typical well-dressed, good-looking Frenchmen, apparently of the upper
class. Monsieur Decresson had a narrow black beard, a military
moustache, a high forehead, pale complexion, and thoughtful eyes.
Monsieur Grisson was shorter, with lighter-colored hair, something of
a fop in his attire, and certainly more genial in his manner.

"It is a pleasure," they both declared, "to have the honor of meeting
Monsieur le Capitaine."

The usual inanities followed. Then Monsieur Decresson pointed with his
hand into the restaurant.

"If monsieur will do us the honor to join us," he said, "we will take
luncheon. Afterwards," he continued, "we can talk over our coffee and
liqueurs. It would be well for us to become better acquainted."

I saw no reason to object. I was, in fact, exceedingly hungry. We
lunched at a corner table in the famous restaurant, and I am bound to
admit that we lunched exceedingly well. During the progress of the
meal our conversation was absolutely general. All the events of the
previous night were carefully ignored. When at last, however, we sat
over our coffee and liqueurs, Monsieur Decresson, after a moment's