All these details I noted, as he turned somewhat indolently in my direction, calmly flipping the ash from off a cigarette, and permitting a spiral of thin blue smoke to curl slowly upward from his lips into the air.
"So it is you, you miserable, drunken reprobate!" he exclaimed, a touch of temper tingling in a voice I felt must naturally be soft and low.
"Have you dared come back to pester me with your abominable consolations?
Sacre! did I not bid you this afternoon to let me alone?
I care nothing for your tipsy paternosters.

Faith, man, it will be pleasanter to face that firing squad to-morrow than your drunken prayers to-night.

Come, get out of the room before I lay unregenerate hands upon your shaven poll.

I am but giving you fair warning, priest, for I am quick of blow when my blood is heated, nor care I greatly for the curses of Mother Church." I stepped quickly forward, coming as directly before him as the great sea-chest would permit, fearful lest his loud words might be distinguishable beyond the closed door.

Then, with silent gesture of warning, I flung aside the heavy cowl which had concealed my features.
"You, I presume, are Charles de Noyan," I said gravely.