Monsieur de Tressan to give him every assistance he might require
in the performance of his errand.

"Parfaitement," purred the Lord Seneschal. "And now, monsieur, if
you will communicate to me the nature of your affair, you shall find
me entirely at your service."

"It goes without saying that you are acquainted with the Chateau de
Condillac?" began Garnache, plunging straight into business.

"Perfectly." The Seneschal leaned back, and was concerned to feel
his pulses throbbing a shade too quickly. But he controlled his
features, and maintained a placid, bland expression.

"You are perhaps acquainted with its inhabitants?"

"Yes."

"Intimate with them?"

The Seneschal pursed his lips, arched his brows, and slowly waved
his podgy hands, a combination of grimace and gesture that said
much or nothing. But reflecting that Monsieur de Tressan had a
tongue, Garnache apparently did not opine it worth his while to
set a strain upon his own imagination, for -

"Intimate with them?" he repeated, and this time there was a sharper
note in his voice.

Tressan leaned forward and brought his finger-tips together. His