Jehan and the governor made their exits through opposite doors; and
Monsieur le Marquis sat alone. Several minutes passed. Once or twice
the marquis turned his attention to his wine-soaked sleeve. Steps were
heard in the corridor, but these died away in the distance. From time
to time the old man's hand wandered to his throat, as if something was
bothering him there. Time marked off a quarter of an hour. Then the
door opened, and a man entered; a man bronzed of countenance, tall, and
deep of chest. He wore the trapper's blouse and fringed leggings.
From where he stood he could not see who sat at the table.
"Come toward the light, Monsieur," said the marquis, "where I may see
you to better advantage." The marquis rose and stood with the fingers
of his right band pressing lightly on the table.
At the sound of that voice, the Chevalier's heart leaped. He strode
forward quickly, and, leaning across the table, stared into his
father's eyes.
CHAPTER XVIII
THE MASTER OF IRONIES
So they stood for some moments, the one with eyes glaring, the other
with quiet scrutiny.
"It appears to agree with you here," began the marquis.
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