They were not deceived; the step on the staircase approached, and they saw, first, some legs, then a body, then a head descending. The legs were covered with fine silk stockings and white cashmere breeches, the body with a tight blue coat, and the head with a three-cornered hat, jauntily placed over one ear; his epaulets left no doubt that he held the rank of captain. This man, who was, in fact, Captain la Jonquiere, was about five feet five, rather fat, and had a sagacious air; one would almost have supposed that he suspected spies in the two soldiers, for he turned his back to them at once, and entered into conversation with his host in a somewhat assumed tone and manner. "In truth," said he, "I should have dined here, and this delicious perfume of stewed kidneys would have tempted me, but some bons vivants are expecting me at the 'Galoubet de Paphos.' Perhaps a young man may come here this morning, but I could not wait any longer. Should he ask for a hundred pistoles, say that I shall be back in an hour, if he will wait." "Very well, captain," said the host. "Some wine," said the guard. "Ah," said the captain, throwing an apparently careless glance at the drinkers, "here are some soldiers who have but little respect for an epaulet." Then, turning to the host-- "Serve these gentlemen; you see they are in a hurry." "Ah," said one, rising, "as soon as monsieur will permit." "Certainly I permit it," said La Jonquiere; and he stepped toward the door. "But, captain," said the host, stopping him, "you have not told me the name of the gentleman you expect." La Jonquiere hesitated. After a moment: "Monsieur Gaston de Chanlay," he replied. "Gaston de Chanlay," repeated the host. "I hope I shall remember the name. Gaston--Gascon. Ah, I shall remember Gascon. Chanlay; ah, I shall think of Chandelle." "That is it," repeated La Jonquiere, gravely; "Gascon de Chandelle." And he went out, but not without looking round the corners of the street and the angles of the houses. He had not taken a hundred steps in the Rue St. Honoré before Dubois presented himself at the door. He had passed La Jonquiere, but, never having seen him, could not recognize him. He presented himself boldly, dressed as a shopkeeper. CHAPTER XIII. MONSIEUR MOUTONNET, DRAPER AT ST. GERMAIN-EN-LAYE. Dubois at once accosted the host. "Monsieur," said he, timidly, "does Captain la Jonquiere lodge here? I wish to speak to him." "You wish to speak to him?" said the host, examining the new-comer from head to foot. "If possible," said Dubois. "Are you sure that is the person you want?" asked the host, who did not think this was the man La Jonquiere expected. "I think so," said Dubois modestly. "A short, fat man?" "Yes." "Drinks his brandy neat?" "That is the man." "Always ready with his cane if he is not attended to directly!" "Ah, that is Captain la Jonquiere!" "You know him, then?" "Not in the least," said Dubois.