It was no more than a formal credential, setting forth that Garnache was travelling into Dauphiny on a State affair, and commanding Monsieur de Tressan to give him every assistance he might require in the performance of his errand.
"Parfaitement," purred the Lord Seneschal.

"And now, monsieur, if you will communicate to me the nature of your affair, you shall find me entirely at your service." "It goes without saying that you are acquainted with the Chateau de Condillac ?" began Garnache, plunging straight into business.
"Perfectly." The Seneschal leaned back, and was concerned to feel his pulses throbbing a shade too quickly.

But he controlled his features, and maintained a placid, bland expression.
"You are perhaps acquainted with its inhabitants ?" "Yes." "Intimate with them ?" The Seneschal pursed his lips, arched his brows, and slowly waved his podgy hands, a combination of grimace and gesture that said much or nothing.

But reflecting that Monsieur de Tressan had a tongue, Garnache apparently did not opine it worth his while to set a strain upon his own imagination, for-- "Intimate with them ?" he repeated, and this time there was a sharper note in his voice.
Tressan leaned forward and brought his finger-tips together.

His voice was as urbane as it lay within its power to be.
"I understood that monsieur was proposing to state his business, not to question mine." Garnache sat back in his chair, and his eyes narrowed.