“You have made a mistake. You are no longer in the hands of the police.” “_Monsieur veut dire——?_” “I am not the Commissaire who desires to photograph your finger-prints.” “Ah, pardon,” said Polydore, and with a soiled napkin he erased the offending stain. “_Sacré animal!_” repeated Bigourdin, attacking his soup. “I wonder why I keep him.” “I too,” said Félise. “If his grandmother and my grandmother had not been foster-sisters——” said Bigourdin, waving an indignant spoon. “You would have kept him just because he is ugly,” smiled Félise. “You would have found a reason.” “One of these days I’ll throw him into the river,” Bigourdin declared. “I am patient. I am slow to anger. But when I am roused I am like a lion. Polydore,” said he serenely, as the dilapidated menial removed the plates, “if you can’t keep your hands clean I’ll make you wear gloves.” “People would laugh at me,” said Polydore. “So much the better,” said Bigourdin. The meal was nearly over when the expected guests were announced. Uncle and niece slipped from the dining room into the little vestibule to welcome them. An elderly man in a blouse, name Baptiste, was already busying himself with their luggage—the knapsacks fastened to the back of the bicycles. “Mademoiselle, Monsieur,” said Bigourdin, “it is a great pleasure to me to meet friends of my excellent brother-in-law. Allow me to present Mademoiselle Félise Fortinbras” (he gave the French pronunciation), “my niece. As dinner is not yet over and as you must be hungry, will you give yourselves the trouble to enter the _salle-à-manger_.” “I should like to have a wash first,” said Corinna. Bigourdin glanced at Félise. They were beginning early. “There is a bathroom upstairs fitted with every modern luxury.” Corinna laughed. “I only want to tidy up a bit.” “I will show you to your room,” said Félise, and conducted her up the staircase beside the bureau. “And monsieur?” Martin went over to the little lavabo against the wall beside which hung the usual damp towel. “This will do quite well,” said he. Bigourdin breathed again. The new arrivals were quite human; and they spoke French perfectly. The men conversed a while until the two girls descended. Bigourdin led his guests into the _salle-à-manger_ and installed them at a table by one of the windows looking on the loggia. “Like this,” said he, “you will be cool and also enjoy the view.” “I think,” said Corinna, looking up at him, “you have the most delicious little town I have seen in France.” Bigourdin’s eyes beamed with gratification. He bowed and went back to his unfinished meal. “Behold over there,” said he to Félise, “a young girl of extraordinary good sense. She is also extremely pretty; a combination which is rare in women.” “Yes, uncle,” said Félise demurely.