I fear it was not very complimentary to the Chevalier.
"One word, Monsieur," pleaded the little man, edging himself round the door, "one small word!" "Say it, sir, and have done with it," said my father, savagely.
The Chevalier hesitated.
"I--I--Monsieur le Docteur--that is, I wish...." "Confound it, sir, what do you wish ?" The Chevalier brushed away a tear.
"_Dites-moi,"_ he said with suppressed agitation.

"One word--yes or no--is he dangerous ?" My father's countenance softened.
"My good friend," he said, gently, "we are none of us safe for even a day, or an hour; but after all, that which we call danger is merely a relative position.

I have known men in a state more precarious than yours who lived to a long old age, and I see no reason to doubt that with good living, good spirits, and precaution, you stand as fair a chance as another." The little Frenchman pressed his hands together in token of gratitude, whispered a broken word or two of thanks, and bowed himself out of the room.
When he was fairly gone, my father flung a book at my head, and said, with more brevity than politeness:-- "Boy, bolt the door.".