vant. A keeper is as much a servant as
any other, isn't he? Upon my word, one would say that he is the master
of the Glandier, and that all the land and woods belong to him. He'll
not let a poor creature eat a morsel of bread on the grass his grass!"

"Does he often come here?"

"Too often. But I've made him understand that his face doesn't please
me, and, for a month past, he hasn't been here. The Donjon Inn has never
existed for him!--he hasn't had time!--been too much engaged in paying
court to the landlady of the Three Lilies at Saint-Michel. A bad
fellow!--There isn't an honest man who can bear him. Why, the concierges
of the chateau would turn their eyes away from a picture of him!"

"The concierges of the chateau are honest people, then?"

"Yes, they are, as true as my name's Mathieu, monsieur. I believe them
to be honest."

"Yet they've been arrested?"

"What does that prove?--But I don't want to mix myself up in other
people's affairs."

"And what do you think of the murder?"

"Of the murder of poor Mademoiselle Stangerson?--A good girl much loved
everywhere in the country. That's what I think of it--and many things
besides; but that's nobody's business."

"Not even mine?" insisted Rouletabille.

The innkeeper looked at him sideways and said gruffly:

"Not even yours."

The omelette ready, we sat down at table and were silently eating, when
the door was pushed open and an old woman, dressed in rags, leaning on
a stick, her head doddering, her white hair hanging loosely over her
wrinkled forehead, appeared on the threshold.

"Ah!--there you are, Mother Angenoux!--It's long since we saw you last,"
said our host.

"I have been very ill, very nearly dying," said the old woman. "If ever
you should have any scraps for the Bete du Bon Dieu--?"

And she entered, followed by a cat, larger than any I had ever believed
could exist. The beast looked at us and gave so hopeless a miau that I
shuddered. I had never heard so lugubrious a cry.

As if drawn by the cat's cry a man followed the old woman in. It was the
Green Man. He saluted by raising his hand to his cap and seated himself
at a table near to ours.

"A glass of cider, Daddy Mathieu," he said.

As the Green Man entered, Daddy Mathieu had started violently; but
visibly mastering himself he said:

"I've no more cider; I served the last bottles to these gentlemen."

"Then give me a glass of white wine," said the Green Man, without
showing the