not noisy voice, as if, he were ejaculating to himself, "A bas les
pretres!"

This exclamation, unintelligible to the populace, was noticed only by
the only person who understood it. The cardinal, astonished at the
unusual sound -- for, hitherto, he had always found the outer world of
London civil; or at least indifferent -- threw his penetrating glance at
the passenger, and caught clearly the visage on which the lamplight
fully shone. It was a square, sinewy face, closely shaven, with the
exception of a small but thick mustache, brown as the well-cropped hair,
and blending with the hazel eye; a calm, but determined countenance;
clearly not that of an Englishman, for he wore ear-rings.

The carriage drove off, and the passenger, somewhat forcing his way
through the clustering group, continued his course until he reached the
cab-stand near the Marble Arch, when he engaged a vehicle and ordered to
be driven to Leicester Square. That quarter of the town exhibits an
animated scene toward the witching hour; many lights and much
population, illuminated coffee-houses, the stir of a large theatre,
bands of music in the open air, and other sounds, most of them gay, and
some festive. The stranger, whose compact figure was shrouded by a long
fur cape, had not the appearance of being influenced by the temptation
of amusement. As he stopped in the square and looked around him, the
expression of his countenance was moody, perhaps even anxious. He
seemed to be making observations on the locality, and, after a few
minutes, crossed the open space and turned up into a small street which
opened into the square. In this street was a coffee-house of some
pretension, connected indeed with an hotel, which had been formed out of
two houses, and therefore possessed no inconsiderable accommodation.