The landlord let us do our own cooking and set our table near one of the windows.
Suddenly I heard him mutter: "Ah!--there he is." His face had changed, expressing fierce hatred.

He went and glued himself to one of the windows, watching the road.

There was no need for me to draw Rouletabille's attention; he had already left our omelette and had joined the landlord at the window.

I went with him.
A man dressed entirely in green velvet, his head covered with a huntsman's cap of the same colour, was advancing leisurely, lighting a pipe as he walked.

He carried a fowling-piece slung at his back.