"You go with him every night to the restaurant in the Place d'Anjou?"
I asked.

"I go there very often," she answered. "Monsieur, unless I am
mistaken, is a stranger there."

I nodded.

"Last night," I told her, "I was there for the first time."

"You came," she said, toying with her empty liqueur-glass, "with
Louis."

"That is so," I admitted.

"Louis brings no one there without a purpose," she remarked.

"You know Louis, then?" I asked.

She raised her eyebrows.

"All the world knows Louis," she continued. "A smoother-tongued rascal
never breathed."

"Louis," I murmured, "would be flattered."

"Louis knows himself," she continued, "and he knows that others know
him. When I saw monsieur with him I was sorry."

"You are very kind," I said, "to take so much interest."