His flashing eyes, his clenched hands, his trembling lips, told us of the tumultuous feelings by which he was being agitated.
"He has done well not to come in here to-day!" he hissed.
"Who is that man ?" asked Rouletabille, returning to his omelette.
"The Green Man," growled the innkeeper.

"Don't you know him?
Then all the better for you.

He is not an acquaintance to make .-- Well, he is Monsieur Stangerson's forest-keeper." "You don't appear to like him very much ?" asked the reporter, pouring his omelette into the frying-pan.
"Nobody likes him, monsieur.

He's an upstart who must once have had a fortune of his own; and he forgives nobody because, in order to live, he has been compelled to become a servant.

A keeper is as much a servant as any other, isn't he?
Upon my word, one would say that he is the master of the Glandier, and that all the land and woods belong to him.