But his quick, calculating eye belied his jovial and sugary mien.

One divined in his look the cool, unscrupulous man of affairs, capable, for all his honeyed ways, of doing one a bad turn.
"He must be aching to throw me into the street," said Durtal to himself, "because he certainly knows all about his wife's goings-on." But if Chantelouve wished to be rid of his guest he did not show it.
With his legs crossed and his hands folded one over the other, in the attitude of a priest, he appeared to be mightily interested in Durtal's work.

Inclining a little, listening as if in a theatre, he said, "Yes, I know the material on the subject.

I read a book some time ago about Gilles de Rais which seemed to me well handled.

It was by abbe Bossard." "It is the most complete and reliable of the biographies of the Marshal." "But," Chantelouve went on, "there is one point which I never have been able to understand.