But now it took on a look of relief and of something that suggested malicious cunning.
"That," said Castelroux in my ear, "is the King's commissioner." Did I not know it?
I never waited to answer him, but, striding across the room, I held out my hand over the table--to Chatellerault.
"My dear Comte," I cried, "you are most choicely met." I would have added more, but there was something in his attitude that silenced me.

He had turned half from me, and stood now, hand on hip, his great head thrown back and tilted towards his shoulder, his expression one of freezing and disdainful wonder.
Now, if his attitude filled me with astonishment and apprehension, consider how these feelings were heightened by his words.
"Monsieur de Lesperon, I can but express amazement at your effrontery.
If we have been acquainted in the past, do you think that is a sufficient reason for me to take your hand now that you have placed yourself in a position which renders it impossible for His Majesty's loyal servants to know you ?" I fell back a pace, my mind scarce grasping yet the depths of this inexplicable attitude.
"This to me, Chatellerault ?" I gasped.
"To you ?" he blazed, stirred to a sudden passion.

"What else did you expect, Monsieur de Lesperon ?" I had it in me to give him the lie, to denounce him then for a low, swindling trickster.

I understood all at once the meaning of this wondrous make-believe.

From Saint-Eustache he had gathered the mistake there was, and for his wager's sake he would let the error prevail, and hurry me to the scaffold.