"It is the smallest matter," he said, waving his hand gracefully.

"And yet," I retorted, "you seem to find a difficulty in coming
at it."

"As you do at the grain of sand in the eye," he answered wittily.
"After all, however, in what you say, M. de Rosny, there is some
truth. I feel that I am, on delicate ground; but I am sure that
you will pardon me. You have in your suite a certain Diego."

"It may be so," I said, masking my surprise, and affecting
indifference.

"A tennis-player."

I shrugged my shoulders. "The man is known," I said.

"A Protestant?"

"It is not impossible."

"And a subject of the King, my master. A man," Don Antonio
continued, with increasing stiffness, "in fine, M. de Rosny, who,
after committing various offences, murdered his comrade in
prison, and, escaping in his clothes, took refuge in this
country."

I shrugged my shoulders again.

"I have no knowledge of that," I said coldly.