"Next night in Warrington he said that he had been struggling with the beasts at Ephesus," said Mr. Arnall with a chirrup of delight. The old Adam was strong in him at this moment and his own solemn exhortations to hear all sides clean forgotten. Suddenly Colonel Challoner broke in upon him. He leaned across the table and with a smile of triumph stared between the candles at M. Poizat. "It was in a corridor," he said, "a vast bare corridor--somewhere--a long time ago. You were coming out of a room--wait!--wait!--No, I cannot name the place," and he sank back again disappointed. But M. Poizat's face wore now a sickly pallor. "In no corridor--nowhere," he stammered and his eyes, urgent with appeal, turned toward Harry Rames. Harry Rames did his first service for an elector of Ludsey. He glanced toward Mr. Benoliel, who rose. "It is getting late," said Benoliel, "and Rames has a busy day in front of him." "I will order your motor-car round to the door," said Rames. He rang the bell and the rest of the company left the table. Diana Royle and Cynthia sought their cloaks in the adjoining sitting-room. Harry Rames took M. Poizat by the arm and led him to the door. "I am very grateful to you," he said. "Good-night." And even as M. Poizat's foot was over the threshold the voice of Colonel Challoner brought him to a halt: "One moment. I remember now. You come from Alsace, M. Poizat." "I come from Provence," cried the little man, facing about swiftly with a passionate, white face. Harry Rames had begun to think Colonel Challoner rather a bore with his incomplete reminiscences. That thought passed from him altogether. He had but to look at the two men to know that some queer and unexpected moment of drama had sprung from their chance meeting at this hotel at Ludsey. They stood facing one another, the little Frenchman in the doorway with fear and rage contending in his face, his mouth twisted into a snarl, his lips drawn back from his gums like an animal, his teeth gleaming; the colonel erect above the table with the candle-light shining upward upon a triumphant and menacing face. "You were in Metz in '71," cried Challoner. "So was I. I was a lad at the time. I was aide to our attaché. That's where I saw you, M. Poizat--in the long corridor of the Arsenal. Yes, you were in Metz in '71." And behind M. Poizat appeared the waiter announcing that Mr. Benoliel's motor-car was at the door. CHAPTER XV THE MAYOR AND THE MAN