A gentleman, riding very recklessly, had just dashed through the porte-cochere, and was in the act of pulling up his horse.

He was a lean, active man, very richly dressed, and with a face that by its swarthiness of skin and the sable hue of beard and hair looked almost black.
"Ah, you are there!" he cried, with something between a snarl and a laugh, and addressing somebody within the shelter of the porch.

"Par la mort Dieu, I had hardly looked to find you!" From the recess of the doorway I heard a gasp of amazement and a cry of "Marsac! You here ?" So this was the gentleman I was to see! A stable boy had taken his reins, and he leapt nimbly to the ground.

Into my range of vision hobbled now the enfeebled gentleman whom earlier I had noticed.
"My dear Stanislas!" he cried, "I cannot tell you how rejoiced I am to see you!" and he approached Marsac with arms that were opened as if to embrace him.
The newcomer surveyed him a moment in wonder, with eyes grown dull.
Then abruptly raising his hand, he struck the fellow on the breast, and thrust him back so violently that but for the stable-boy's intervention he had of a certainty fallen.

With a look of startled amazement on his haggard face, the invalid regarded his assailant.
As for Marsac, he stepped close up to him.
"What is this ?" he cried harshly.