o
himself that serviceable and comforting word of the time, "Profiteers!"
and contemplated with some satisfaction his personal superiority to
such as these.
But there was more and better to come.
There remained in the car a mere average man, undistinguished but by a
lack of especial distinction, sober of habit, economical of gesture,
dressed in a simple lounge suit such as anybody might wear, beneath a
rough and ready-made motorcoat. When the car stopped he had stood up in
his place beside the chauffeur as if meaning to get out, but rather
remained motionless, resting a hand on the windshield and thoughtfully
gazing northwards along the road that, skirting the grounds of the
Chateau de Montalais, disappeared from view round the sleek shoulder of
a hill.
Now as the pattern chauffeur shut the door to the tonneau with the
properly arrogant slam, the man who lingered in the car nodded gravely
to some private thought, unlatched the door, got down, and turned
toward the cafe, but before following his companions of more brilliant
plumage paused for a quiet word with the chauffeur.
"We dine here, Jules," he announced in English.
Settling into place behind the wheel Jules saluted with fine finish and
deference.
"Very good, Mr. Phinuit, sir," he said meekly, in the same tongue. To
this he added, coolly, without the least flicker of a glance aside,
without moving one muscle other than those involved by the act of
speech, and in precisely the tone of respect that became his livery:
"What's the awful idea, you big stiff?"
Mr. Phinuit betrayed not the slightest sense of anything untoward in
this mode of address, but looked round to the chauffeur with a slow,
not unfriendly smile.
"Why," he said pleasantly--"you misbegotten garage hound--why do you
ask?"
In the same manner Jules replied: "Can't you see it's going to rain?"
Mr. Phinuit cocked a calm, observant eye heavenwards. Involuntarily but
unobtrusively, under cover of the little tubbed trees that hedged the
terrasse apart from the square, Duchemin did likewise, and so
discovered, or for the first time appreciated, the cause of the
uncommonly early dusk that loured over Nant.
Between the sentinel peaks that towered above the valley black
battalions of storm cloud were fraternising, joining forces, coalescing
into a vast and formidable army of ominous aspect.
"So it is," Mr. Phinuit commented amiably; indeed, not without a
certain hint of satisfaction.
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